Chapter 24: One Big Bed

The builders finished on a Thursday, and by Thursday night nobody in the house was talking about anything else.

The new room smelled of fresh paint and cedar.

The wall to the dressing room was gone.

One great pale bed sat in the middle of the floor with a headboard the width of the room.

Every inch of it was made up with white linen.

George had stood in the doorway at six o'clock with his hands in his pockets.

He looked at the four of them with hesitant warmth.

"Well?" he said.

"It's the best thing anyone's ever made me," said Noah.

"Better than the bread?"

"Nobody beats the bread."

"Good answer," said George, and he was smiling when he shut the door.

Now it was midnight, and the lamps were low.

Noah lay on his back in the very center of the bed.

There was room for six.

There were four, and they did not use it.

Troy was sprawled across his legs with his head on Noah's hip, half asleep, one big hand curled round Noah's ankle.

William lay on his left with his chin on his fist.

Henry lay on his right, glasses off, drawing slow patterns with one finger on Noah's stomach.

The window was open, and the night air smelled of cut grass.

"You've got flour in your hair," Henry said.

"I always do."

"At midnight?"

"It's a condition."

William's hand moved up and smoothed Noah's hair back from his forehead.

"Are you all right?" he said.

It was a small question, and the answer was not small.

Noah thought about it.

"I came here to be a guest," he said slowly. "I thought I'd be quiet. Say thank you. Keep my room tidy."

"You were never a guest," said Henry.

"No."

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