Then Leo was outside lying by the river on his back in the snow. The flames were out, and the burning had dropped to a sizzle that was sputtering down to a cool fade. Above him was gray sky and the bare branches of trees. Allie’s crying face was over his, her hair hanging in front of her wet red cheeks. Leo asked her where his mother was but Allie kept crying as if she didn’t hear him, or even see his lips moving. A raven, or a crow, flew over her head for the river and Leo wanted to get up and watch it but the snow held him down. Now Allie was gone and Jim was talking, but Leo couldn’t see him anywhere. He could feel the river, though. It was moving under him, and he was beginning to float—

“You slept right through supper.”

The bedside lamp was on. Half of Leo’s face was in his pillow and he could see a glass of water on the table. Jim was rubbing an ice cube over his back. Leo tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “I think I have a fever.”

“Sunstroke. Drink that water.”

Leo turned around and sat up. He drank the water and looked at Jim. “I dreamt I was lying in snow by the river.”

Jim took the empty glass and had Leo lie back down on his chest and stomach. He cracked another ice cube from the tray. “I was just down there praying to your mother.”

“She was in it, too.”

Jim ran the ice along his son’s back from his neck to where his butt began. “I told her to meet that tiny baby at the station. I know that she will.”

Leo held his breath. His stomach muscles tensed and something caught in his throat, then shuddered back down.

Jim rubbed the cube over Leo’s skin until he had to get another one from the tray. “They say when a child dies she becomes an angel. Yours didn’t make it to being a child, so I’m certain she’s been conjured into something better—a muse, I think.”

“What’s that?”

“A muse is a goddess, son. Zeus had nine daughters and I believe each one of them looked after a different kind of art. Your mother’s favorite was Erato because Erato like to preside over the poems. But ours is Euterpe. She sits in the lap of all musicians.” Jim pressed the towel down on the wet sheet. “That’s where yours is, out there with Euterpe, looking to help a bluesman dry on a song.”

Leo felt the towel on his back. It burned, and when he shut his eye, a tear squeezed out onto his pillow.

“There’s plenty of time for children, son. There’s better fish in the river too.”

Leo slept through the night and straight till noon. On the kitchen table was a note from Jim.

Don’t make any plans. We got a birthday to celebrate. Take some aspirin for that back.