our two perfect days. Our long hair hangs in triple waterfalls off the edge of the mattress.
“We need a movie marathon tomorrow,” Campbell says, snuggled beside me. “It’s the perfect time of year for it. Cozy blankets. Lots of junk food.”
“Great idea,” I tell her. “What’ll it be?”
Juniper starts suggesting movies, her voice muffled by the blanket half covering her face.
It’s freezing in here. Money has been tight again the last few weeks, and we see the evidence in less frequent grocery trips and the fact that the heat is off. I’m tempted to use the lantern, but I resist. It generates a good amount of heat for its size, but the oil won’t last forever, and we should save it for a night less peaceful than this one. It’s getting too cold for construction, and between being trapped in the house and being low on income, it’s going to be a stressful winter.
So we are enjoying this weekend while we have it.
“Oh, I’ve got it,” Cam says. “Lord of the Rings: Fellowship, Towers, Return of the King. We can fit them all in if we start in the afternoon.”
“Snacks?” I prompt now that movies are determined, and the girls begin a list that is perfectly balanced in that it has an equal ratio of salty treats to sweet ones.
I’m dozing off to the sound of their happy little voices when I hear a familiar name.
“What was that?”
“I asked if Liam can come for our movie day,” Campbell says.
“Oh, well.” I am stumbling, trying to think of a good reason to not invite Liam. “Our movie-thons are kind of sacred. We can’t have any boys there.”
“A boooooy,” Junie sings next to me.
I tickle her until she threatens to pee on my bed.
“I want to meet him,” Cam insists a few minutes later. “You know we have to hang out with him eventually. If we don’t like him, what’s the point?”
The girls giggle more, but Campbell isn’t wrong. If my mom or sisters don’t like him—or if Liam can’t look past the bad things here and see how much love we have coiled up inside—then I probably am wasting my time with him.
“Okay, okay, I’ll ask Mom,” I tell them.
If I do invite Liam over, it will mean my worlds colliding. It’s a terrifying thought, but it is a good weekend for it. Quiet, with him away at work.
I fall asleep to the sound of Campbell and Juniper whispering, and I don’t think of the crawl space once.
Chapter Forty-Two
IT SNOWS OVERNIGHT. I WAKE UP to a room glowing with sunlight bouncing off the snow outside. I am still snuggled in bed with Campbell and Juniper, all of us tucked under the dragonfly quilt. I carefully extract myself, not ready to wake the girls and disturb the strange and welcome quiet in the house. It’s freezing, so I pull a throw blanket off my chair and wrap it around my body. My breath comes in puffs of air.
My window is foggy, and I use the blanket to wipe away the condensation. The snow outside is crisp and clean. It’s almost as though the crows recognize its perfection, because they haven’t touched the yard.
But then I look around and realize that the crows aren’t filling the yard or the tree like I’ve gotten used to. I tilt my head and look up at the roof. Empty.
Across the street, crows cover the snowy outlines of Mrs. Stieg’s rosebushes. They line her gutters and have demolished her yard with feathers and droppings.
Then again, the clock is ticking on our pristine yard. A force of nature known as Juniper Mae will see to it shortly.
I sneak out of the room, squeezing my body through the narrow opening of the door so that I don’t make it creak and wake the girls. This stupid door causes me more trouble than a door ever should. I’ve tried putting grease on the hinges, but nothing stops that creak.
Mom is in the kitchen holding a cup of tea, standing at the sink. Steam rises off the mug and forms a little cloud around and above her. She looks calm and collected, and the moment I see her, I know it’s going to be a good day. Mom is here. Really here.
I steal some of the hot water from the kettle on the stove and join her at the counter. She smiles in greeting, but we stand together quietly. An unspoken agreement to savor the moment. It doesn’t last long. Creak.