Brock green's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Two winters had passed since Nova lit the first fire in the log cabin. The twins were three now. Leo and Pisces ran the halls in wool socks and knocked into the legs of the long table. Brock had stacked the north wall with cordwood twice over. The pantry held jars of meat from Collin and roots from the cellar. The house held. Brock spent that morning splitting kindling on the porch while snow fell in slow flakes over the clearing. He came in with an armload of wood and found the boys at the hearth, pushing wooden dinosaurs across the stone. Nova stood at the top of the stairs. She held two white sticks in her hand. She came down one step at a time and did not stop until she was in front of him. "We did it again," she said. She turned the sticks so he could see. One showed a cross. One showed a single line that had bloomed into two. "Both positive. Twins." Brock set the wood down on the hearth. He looked at the tests, then at the boys on the floor, then at the hall that ran past the nursery to five empty rooms. He had told her, standing in that nursery, that he wanted more. He had built the house wide on purpose. He took the sticks from her hand and held them careful, like they might tip. "How long have you known?" "Since this morning." She put her hand flat on her stomach. "Rowan called before you came in. She took hers yesterday. Two lines. Collin's gene held." She looked up at him. "Four babies coming to this town by summer. Two of them ours." Brock pulled her against his chest and held her there. Over her shoulder he watched Leo hand Pisces a dinosaur without being asked. The house had walls that would hold. It had a fire she kept burning. It did not yet have cribs for two more, or stores for six mouths through a long winter, or a midwife who would come this far out. He had answered the question he set himself two years ago. A new one had already opened under his feet.