Chapter 23: The Long Night

Claire's POV

It snowed all of the first week of February, and on the last Friday I had a house.

It was a brick house in Oakwood with a front porch and a fireplace that worked.

I had bought it from the trust account in one afternoon, with my own signature, and I had not asked anybody's permission.

Rafe had paid for the firewood.

I had let him, because he asked what he was allowed to pay for.

"Firewood" was the only answer that made him laugh.

Phyllis took Hazel for the night.

She came to the door at five in her good coat, with the quilted diaper bag.

She stood on the porch for a moment without coming in.

"I'm not writing this down," she said.

"Phyllis."

"I mean it. Not the diapers, not the gas, not the cookies I made."

She held out her arms.

"Nothing. Give her to me."

I put my daughter in her arms.

Hazel looked up at her grandmother with her fist in her mouth, and she smiled.

It was a real smile, with no teeth, and Phyllis's whole face folded.

"I'll have her back by ten tomorrow," she said, and she walked down the steps with great care, because of the ice.

I shut the door and leaned on it.

The house was very quiet.

Rafe stood by the fire with his sleeves rolled up, poking a log.

"Say something," I said.

"I'm thinking about the first time I saw this room."

"It was empty."

"It had a fireplace. I thought, she'll want a fire."

"You were looking at houses for me before I told you I wanted one?"

"I looked at three," he said. "I'm an organized man."

I crossed the floor and took the poker out of his hand and put it down.

"I answered your letters," I said.

He went very still.

I had written eleven of them over three weeks, at night, after Hazel was down.

I took the first one out of my back pocket and gave it to him.

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