Collin blackish's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The freeze came two weeks earlier than the almanac said. Collin woke to frost climbing the inside of the kitchen window and Rowan already dressed at the table, one hand flat on the small rise of her belly. She said the ultrasound was today. She said the drive was three hours and the roads would only get worse. He looked at the near-empty smokehouse through the back window and knew the cellar shelves behind it were just as thin. Two people through winter was one math problem. Rowan and twins was another. " "They stopped at the clinic first. The tech ran the wand across Rowan's belly and turned the screen toward them. Two heads. Two spines. Two fast, separate heartbeats. "Girls," the tech said. "Both girls." Rowan watched the screen without blinking. "Lizzy and Lisa," she said. Collin looked at her. "You already had the names." "I had them since I was nine," she said. "I didn't know if I'd get to use them." She squeezed his hand once, hard, and let go. It was the second time she had chosen him on purpose, and he counted it. " "After the clinic he drove straight to the butcher on the edge of town, then to the grain seller, then to the old smokehouse behind the diner where a man he'd cooked for last spring owed him a favor. He traded his best felling axe for a hindquarter of elk. He traded two days of winter labor for a sack of oats and a sack of dried beans. He bought lard, salt, onions, and every jar of preserved berries the seller had left. He loaded the truck until the springs sat low. Rowan watched from the passenger seat and did not tell him to stop. When he climbed in the last time she said, "That's four mouths now." He said, "I know." " "They came home in the dark. He hung the elk in the smokehouse, salted what wouldn't keep, and stacked jars on the cellar shelves until the shelves were full. He counted out loud so she could hear it from the kitchen. Enough meat for the winter. Enough grain. Enough fat to cook his grandmother's recipes and not just boiled survival. Rowan stood in the cellar doorway with the ultrasound picture in her hand and a positive test strip still on the sill behind her from months back. "We can't stay in this cabin with two babies," she said, flat as always. "The nursery won't fit." Collin wiped his hands on the towel at his belt. The food was solved. The house was not. He nodded once and started thinking about walls. Rowan put lovley to bed