Chapter 19: Power Out

The power went out at seven-forty, in the middle of Maddy's bath.

I stood in the dark bathroom holding a slippery baby, and from the front door someone knocked twice.

"It's me," Doran said. "Is she wet?"

"She's very wet."

"Stay there."

He came in with a camp lantern and a bag over his shoulder.

He knelt on the tile and held a towel open, and I put my daughter into it.

He wrapped her faster than I could have, and he did it with one hand.

"You've done that before," I said.

"My sister's NICU friends hand me their babies at parties. I'm the test dummy."

Maddy yawned in his arms and fell asleep against his sweater.

We put her in the crib at nine, in the living room, because the bedroom was the coldest part of the house.

Outside, the ice ticked on the windows, and somewhere down the street a branch came down with a crack.

I made tea on the gas stove.

Doran lit the lantern and set it on the coffee table, and we sat on the couch with a blanket across both our knees.

The monitor sat between us, with its small red light.

We talked for an hour about nothing.

His sister, my art classroom, the worst call he had ever run.

At some point I realized I was leaning on his shoulder, and had been for a while.

"You're cold," he said.

"I'm fine."

"Your hand is ice."

He took it and held it between both of his, and warmed it.

I watched his thumb move across my knuckles.

It was such a small thing, and I wanted him so badly I could hardly breathe.

"Claire," he said quietly.

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