“I’m a shadow of myself.”

“That’s funny, you feel substantial enough,” I said, rubbing my hand across his (okay, flat and muscular) belly.

“Woman, I need fuel,” he said. “If I’m going to keep up with your insatiable demands.”

“You haven’t even met insatiable yet,” I said. Then I dropped the smile. “I can’t believe we did it, Tolliver. This is all I ever wanted.”

“Me, too. But my metabolism is telling me to eat first and talk later.”

I kissed him. “So shall it be.” I slid my sweatpants back on and made a dash for the bathroom. Fifteen excruciatingly cold minutes later, I was more or less clean, and I was wearing several layers of clean clothes. I had on two pairs of socks and some rubber boots that Tolliver had pulled off the shelf at Wal-Mart the day before. While Tolliver took his turn in the bathroom, I looked on the shelves above the stove to find a cheap metal pan. I put some water in it and set it on a level place in the large fire. When there was a chance the water was fairly warm, I used Tolliver’s folded-over sweatshirt to get the pan off the fire and I poured the hot water into two mugs with powdered hot chocolate in them. We had some Pop-Tarts. Sugar would help restore our energy.

Tolliver smiled when he saw a little steam coming up from the mugs. “Aw, that’s great,” he said. “Wonder Woman.” We sat in the two chairs closest to the fire and drank and ate while we listened to the battery-powered radio. The roads were in terrible condition, and though the temperature would rise above freezing by the midafternoon, roads wouldn’t be clear until the next morning. Even then, they’d be patched with ice. Power crews were out repairing downed power lines, which should be reported, and checking on isolated farms. Citizens were urged to check on their elderly neighbors. I glanced out the window. “The Hamiltons are okay, Tolliver,” I said.

“Have you tried your cell phone?” he asked.

When I turned it on, I had a few messages.

The first one was from Manfred.

“Hey, Harper, my grandmother got real sick late yesterday, and she’s in the hospital here in Doraville,” Manfred said. The second message was from Twyla, hoping we were okay out there at the cabin. The third message was from Manfred. “It would be great if you and Tolliver would stop by; there are some issues about Grandmother I’d like to talk about,” he said, very much as though he were trying to sound adult but not quite achieving it.

“That sounds bad,” I said. “That sounds like turning-off-the-machines bad.”

“Do you think we can make it into town?” Tolliver said. “I’m not even sure we can make it up the driveway.”