Eduardo's Arc

Chapter 97 of 115

The morning after they built the table, Eduardo woke to cold air in the house. Their breath showed when they drank tea at the window. One table stood in a house of bare floors. No bed. No chairs. No fire. Kiersten pulled her shawl tight. Outside, the wind had a hard edge it hadn't carried the day before. "A cold snap is coming," Kiersten said. She felt endings the way other people felt rain. "Two days. Maybe less. These walls won't hold it." Eduardo knew the old move. He wanted to drive to town, buy a stove, buy chairs, buy a bed, and have it done by dark. His hands itched for it. He held still. "We don't have the money for all of it," he said plainly. "And buying it alone is the old me." "Then we pick what keeps us warm," Kiersten said. "The rest can wait." They agreed on the hearth first. A body could sleep on a floor near a fire. A body could not sleep in a house with no heat. Eduardo had cleared old stone from the demolished house weeks ago. It still sat stacked under a tarp. They hauled the flat stones in together, one at a time, resting between loads. Eduardo started to set the first stone. Then he handed Kiersten the level. "Where does the base go?" She marked the spot near the inside wall, under the chimney the town crew had framed. "Here. Square to the flue." They laid stone through the morning. He mixed the mortar. She set the line. They argued once about the height of the firebox, and she was right. He let her be right without a fight. By afternoon the clouds dropped low and the first cold gust rattled the windows. Eduardo's chest tightened with the old fear. He remembered Festive's words. He put his attention back on the work in his hands, not the loss he imagined. He fit the last stone. Kiersten packed the gaps. They gathered scrap wood and kindling from the yard. Eduardo struck the match. Kiersten fed the small flames. The fire caught and climbed. Heat spread across the bare floor and reached their faces. The house held its first warmth. They sat on the floor before the hearth, backs against the wall, shoulders close. The cold snap came that night. Wind beat the walls. Snow ticked at the glass. But the fire burned, and the room stayed warm. "We still have no bed," Kiersten said. "No chairs." "Tomorrow," Eduardo said. "Together." She leaned her head against his shoulder. He did not pull her closer to claim her. He just let her stay. For the first time, the house was warm because they had built the warmth by hand. The empty rooms could wait. The fire would hold the night.