“That’s not fair,” I said. “Maybe I don’t understand, but you didn’t know if I would. You may know Latin and calculus and how to hot-wire a car, but you don’t know anything about me. I don’t think you know anything about anybody except yourself.”
Alex looked around at what had once been a very nice living room, now covered with ash and broken glass. “I’ll tell you what I know,” he said. “Everywhere there’s death. You think that pile of bodies was the worst thing I’ve ever seen? Or the corpse with the dog beside it? That was nothing. Every day for a year I’ve seen worse. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out why God lets me live when so many people have died horrible, lonely deaths. People better than I’ll ever be. For a long time I thought I was alive to protect Julie, but every plan I’ve made for her failed. Now I’m trusting in Carlos’s decision. And if God shows us mercy and gives Julie the protection I can’t, I’ll go to Ohio and beg the Franciscans to take me in and devote the rest of my life to serving Christ and my church. That’s everything I know, Miranda. Everything.”
He was crying. For days I hadn’t known he could smile, and now I found he could cry.
“Stay until Tuesday,” I said. “Go into town and get the food. Do that for Dad and Lisa, all right?”
He took a deep breath and wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Tuesday,” he said. “What’s today?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, but then I counted back to last Monday. That’s how we tell time: Monday to Monday. “It’s Thursday,” I said. “That’s just a long weekend.”
“All right,” he said. “We’ll leave on Tuesday. No more arguments.”
“None,” I said, but I felt a glimmer of hope.
Maybe Alex really does listen to me.
I opened one of the cans of dog food and put some in Horton’s bowl. When I checked this evening, he hadn’t touched it.
A couple of days ago Jon asked permission to give Horton a little bit of the shad. We have so much food in the house, Mom agreed, but Horton ended up not eating it.
He’s gotten so thin. He seems comfortable, and he can get up and down furniture and laps. Sure, he mostly sleeps, but he always sleeps a lot.
I’d hoped when everybody left, especially Gabriel, Horton would start eating again. I know he was eating a little before they came, because I fed him when Jon was away.
When Julie was in the house, Jon was distracted, and even now he’s spending most of his free time with her, either here or at Mrs. Nesbitt’s. But she’ll be gone in a couple of days, unless Alex changes his mind, and then Jon is going to have to face what’s going on with Horton.
If he can. If any of us can.
Charlie popped in, just like a neighbor might, to invite us over for Sunday prayer service, followed by dinner.
Syl said yes right away and Matt nodded. Jon said he would if he could pray with Alex and Julie, and Charlie said of course, they were hoping Jon would join them.
That left Mom and me. I said yes, more for the dinner than the prayers. Mom thought about it and said she didn’t have that many chances to be alone and whenever one came along, she grabbed it, so she’d stay home.
“You could come just for the dinner,” Charlie said. “It won’t be the same without you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Mom said, which we all knew meant “no, thank you.”
We’re in and out of both houses all day long. Julie comes over every morning for lessons with Jon, and more often than not, Jon eats supper at Dad’s. Syl goes over for Bible study. Mom sends me over with something for them, or Alex comes over with something for us, and Charlie and Mom have formed their own book club. One of them reads a mystery, then gives it to the other, and then they discuss it.
But Charlie always comes over here to see Mom. Mom never goes there. I can’t decide if it’s because she doesn’t want to see Mrs. Nesbitt’s house filled with other people or if it’s Dad and Lisa she’s avoiding. Maybe she thinks they want to avoid her. It can’t be easy for Mom having them so close by, but she might think it’s just as hard for them having her so near.
It’s only been a few days since they moved out. Maybe by next week Mom will start visiting them.
The four of us walked over to Mrs. Nesbitt’s this morning, splitting up once we got there. Jon went to the parlor, where Alex and Julie set up a little chapel, and Matt, Syl, and I stayed in the kitchen with everybody else.
Dad moved Mrs. Nesbitt’s table back into the kitchen, and we sat around it for our prayer service. It made things feel more ordinary, and I was glad for that.
Someone would start a hymn and whoever knew it would join in. I asked for “Take My Hand, Precious Lord,” since that was Grandma’s favorite. There were some prayers, and Syl talked about the peace she felt when she accepted Christ as her savior. I guess that happened after the moon goddess Diana proved to be such a dud.
Charlie gave a sermon, if you could call it that. He said he’d been thinking a lot about Noah and his family lately, what it must have been like for them those 40 days and 40 nights. As far as they knew, they were the only people left on Earth. Everybody would be descended from them but only if they survived, and they had to trust in God that they would.
“I bet the rabbits weren’t worried about that,” Charlie said. “They just did what rabbits do. But it’s our curse and our blessing to remember the past and to know there’s a future.”
He reached over, touched Lisa with his right hand and Syl with his left. “Our past is gone,” he said. “But our future is in this house right now. Little Gabriel, sleeping peacefully in his crib. The children Syl will bear. Miranda and Julie, too. Their babies, born and unborn, are God’s gift to the future, just as the ark was.”
Dad squeezed Lisa’s hand. Matt squeezed Syl’s. I felt very much a part of something and very much alone.
Alex, Julie, and Jon came in, and Dad and Lisa served us dinner. It was crowded in the kitchen, and we couldn’t all fit around the table. Dad, Matt, and Alex ate standing by the sink.
We never used to have Sunday dinner. Sunday was for track meets and skating competitions and baseball games. But even with a beef jerky main course, Sunday dinner felt special.
“I should get back to Mom,” I said.
“I’ll walk you home,” Alex said.
It felt funny to be outside without needing a coat. It felt funny to be walking with a boy. It felt funny and awful to think in a couple of days I wouldn’t see him again. He and Julie would be like all the other people who’d been part of my life and then left me.
“Have you changed your mind?” I asked him. “About Julie staying?”
“No,” he said. “Did you think I would?”
I shook my head. “I’m still hoping, though,” I said. “And that you’ll stay, too.”
“We’re leaving on Tuesday,” he said. “It’s better for everybody. There’ll be more food for you.”
“Thank you for being so noble,” I said. “But we’d rather be hungry with you.”
Alex laughed. It surprises me every time he does.
Then he surprised me again. “You would have been my dream girl,” he said. “Before. Beautiful and smart and funny and kind.”
“I don’t have to be,” I said. “A dream, I mean. I’m here. You’re here. Why leave?”
“Because it’s best,” he said. “Maybe not now, this minute, but for the future.”
“You drive me crazy,” I said. “You. Charlie. Everybody. You talk about the future like you’re so sure we’re going to have one.”
“You have to believe in the future,” Alex said. “Otherwise there’s no point being alive.”
“That’s easy for you to say!” I cried. “You have your faith, your church. But I don’t believe like that. Maybe I used to but I don’t anymore.”
I thought Alex would get angry at me then, but he didn’t. “You don’t have to believe in the church,” he said. “Or even in God. Believe that people can change things.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t know that anymore.” My mind flashed back to the dead man with his dog lying beside him. “We’re all helpless,” I said. “There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing left to trust in.”
“Trust in tomorrow,” Alex said. “Every day of your life, there’s been a tomorrow. I promise you, there’ll be a
