Page 32 of Backpacking through Bedlam

“Hi,” I said.

“Alice, did you throw anything away?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Some dynamite that had gotten too unstable for me to think it was a good idea to carry it. Pretty much everything in the kitchen. You do not want to look in the fridge right now. But if it wasn’t perishable? No. You were coming home. You couldn’t give me permission to get rid of things, and I wasn’t going to mess around with them.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He stepped toward me, reaching for my hands. I let him take them. “I was trying to save you when I sold myself to the crossroads. Not condemn you.”

“You didn’t,” I protested. “This has been awful, and I won’t pretend it’s the life I thought I was going to have, but I wouldn’t change it if you told me I could. We have a family. We have each other. And when I felt myself snapping under the strain, I ran. I didn’t stay where I was and turn into my father. I won. I kept not giving up on you, on us, I kept your things and I kept the lights on and I kept looking.”

Thomas nodded as he listened.

“I kept looking because I knew you had to be out there for me to find, and then I found you, I found you, I brought you home, and home’s still here. The woods are still here, the Angel’s still open, everything we need is here. The kids are adults now, so I can’t pretend nothing’s changed, but we made it. You saved me.”

“And now you’ve saved me as well.” He let go of one of my hands, reaching up to trace the outline of my mouth with his thumb. “Not for the first time, either. I begin to feel I may be behind on my salvations.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, and leaned in, and kissed him.

He let go of my other hand immediately, sliding his arms around my waist as I pressed against him. I slid my own arms around his shoulders, linking my hands together behind his neck, and we held each other up that way, two people standing together in their bedroom, in their own home, for the first time in fifty years.

His stomach growled.

I laughed as I stepped away, and he gave me a half-ashamed look. “My apologies,” he said. “I think I’ll be somewhat subject to the demands of the flesh for the next little while, as I adjust to the absence of constant danger.”

“Cynthia seems to think that’s not going to last,” I said. “Verity flicked the Covenant in the nose a few years back, and they’ve been a lot more active since then. We may have more danger to worry about soon.”

“Danger before dinner?”

“Hope not.”

“Then let’s go down.”

Sally was on the stairs, dressed in the same filthy clothes, rumpling her hair with one of the towels I’d left on her bed. I looked at her and nodded. “We’ll take you shopping as soon as we can,” I said. “Until then, I’ll loan you a nightgown after dinner, and we can put your things through the washer.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle having more than one pair of socks,” said Sally, looking critically at her currently bare feet. “What’s the normal number of pairs for someone my age?”

“Asking the wrong people,” I said amiably. “Come on. Ribs and beans in the kitchen.”

“Food,” breathed Sally, and sped up, Thomas and I following close behind.

The tailypo had ignored the foil tray of ribs and beans in favor of ripping open the paper bag Cynthia had brought in at the same time, stealing the cornbread and what looked like a half dozen or so hard-boiled eggs. They were perched atop the kitchen counters, munching happily away, shells and all. They chirped at us when we entered, and some of the younger ones shifted their postures defensively, blocking off our access to the food. I proceeded to the cabinet where the plates were kept.

“Thomas, spoons are where they’ve always been,” I said. “Think you can get out something to serve with?”

He didn’t respond. I turned, three plates in my hands, and blinked at him.

Tears were running down his cheeks, unhampered by any attempts to stop them. He sniffled when he saw me looking, swiping them ineffectively away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t remember where the spoons are kept. I’m . . . This is all happening, isn’t it? This is really where we are, in Buckley, and the mice are absent for some perfectly understandable, perfectly explicable reason, and we’re home. We’re actually home. I won’t have to leave you again. The crossroads are dead.”

“We’re home.” I put the plates on the counter and crossed to him, taking his shoulders while Sally watched in worried silence. “We’re really here, we’re really all together, and the mice are giving us some space because I asked them nicely and they have enough adjustments to make to the scripture that they’re probably relieved to have some time where they don’t need to worry about us. I promise you, this is happening. We’re all here. Even Sally.”

“Hi, boss,” said Sally, raising one hand in a small, anxious wave.

I let go of Thomas’s shoulders, moving to open the drawer where the silverware was kept. Like everything else, it was clean if unused, scrubbed free of tarnish by Cynthia’s helpful staffers. Asking her how much she’d charge to keep the place from crumbling into dust was officially one of the smarter things I’d ever done.

“Let’s eat,” I said. “We’ll all feel better after we eat.”

Tears still rolling down his cheeks, Thomas nodded and took the serving spoon from my hand, turning to the tray of ribs and beans. Sally followed, and in short order, we all had plates and were returning to the living room. True to my prediction, the couch was looking like the best place to eat, as it didn’t require me to reopen the dining room before I’d had a chance to go through the whole house. Most of the tailypo followed us, clutching the remains of their stolen cornbread as they fanned out and distributed themselves around the room.