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“Yes. It was hot and stuffy in here. I let it air out a bit before I woke you.” Justin said this with a nonchalant shrug. Too nonchalant.
Carly reached for the doorknob to the last room, and Justin caught her hand. “Let’s leave that one for a bit, okay?”
Carly dropped her eyes. She didn’t want to know the answer if it was related to the open windows. That was something she’d rather not ever know.
Justin took her upstairs and showed her the two bedrooms with charming canopy beds. Each had a fireplace. One of the rooms was set up as an office, with papers stacked neatly in trays and all of the pens in their wooden cup. Carly opened the door across the hall and found a child’s play room. In the center of the room was a large and convoluted racetrack for toy cars. The cars were still scattered on the carpet where the child had dropped them. In the sunshine streaming in through the windows, Carly could see dust had gathered on the track. She looked away and noticed the wood letters that read “Jeremy” mounted on the wall in a whimsical arc, clumsily painted and adorned with stickers. Tears stung her eyes, and she backed out of the room.
“I’m sorry,” Justin said. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I’m so emotional. It’s silly.”
“You’re not silly.” Justin hugged her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s just a playroom. He didn’t live here.”
“That’s good.” Carly looked down at the runner rug covering the hallway’s wood floor. It was powder blue with little pink roses. She tried not to think of what might have happened to the little boy who’d owned these toys or why the cars had never been put away. She decided they wouldn’t use this room. Moving those things seemed like a violation of a shrine—the only memorial that little boy might ever have.
“What do you think, Carly?”
“It’s a good house.”
“Do you think you could live here for a while?”
He looked so hopeful and concerned that she had to smile. “Yes, Justin, I think I could live here.”
He smiled in relief. “Good. I’ll start bringing in our stuff. Pick one of the bedrooms for us.”
Carly picked the one on the left side of the house, above the kitchen, which Justin told her later was a good choice; it would be warmer from the heat of the stove in the kitchen below. Carly was secretly delighted when he said so, as she always was when he praised her decisions, and pretended that had been her reasoning all along. She put their clean clothes away in the drawers. Either this had been a guest bedroom or Justin had already cleaned out the belongings of the previous residents.
She went downstairs afterward and found Justin busy storing their food in the cabinets. There was already a good bit inside, and Carly’s organized nature was offended by the jumble of cans and jars and horrified at watching Justin stuff the cans inside wherever he could find a spot.
“If you swell with any more indignation, you’re going to pop.” He chuckled and put the cans he was holding down onto the counter below. “How about if I just bring these inside for you and let you decide where they belong?”
Carly blushed a little and laughed at herself. “Maybe that would be best.” And she began organizing, from left to right, rearranging the cans in alphabetical order. The Mason jars went in the last cabinet, organized according to contents, vegetables on top and fruits on the bottom, both in alphabetical order. It was a relaxing and enjoyable chore. She sang while she worked, a sound that made Justin smile while he unloaded the wagon of all of their supplies.
“Something I forgot to show you,” he said when he came back inside with the last load of canned goods. He went over by the stove and pulled a ring set into the floor. A door swung open to reveal a dark staircase below.
“A cellar!”
“Not really. Not large enough for storage.”
“What’s it for, then?”
“Storms. We’re in Tornado Alley, though they’re not as common up here as they are in the central states.”
Carly flinched. “Oh, God, Justin, there won’t be any sirens or weather alerts.”
“It’s okay,” Justin said with a reassuring smile. “There’s a barometer out on the addition.”
Carly shook her head. “What good will that do, especially in the middle of the night?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on it during dangerous weather.”
God, another thing to worry about.
“I’m storing the meds down here,” Justin told her. “It’s the best place for them—cool and dark, with a steady temperature.” He gave her a little smile. “I’m storing them by grouping, so please don’t go down there and alphabetize them.”
She knew he did that since his dyslexia made the labels difficult to read, and she’d never re-sort the boxes because of it, but Carly grinned at him. “I make no promises.”
They’d left the back door ajar for Sam, and he pushed his way inside. He had something dangling from his mouth. Lunch, most likely, Carly thought as he dropped it at her feet. But the creature was still moving, and it let out a plaintive little Mrow!
