He ran his hands through her hair. She told him not to stop, and he said he would sit there for as long as she wanted him to.

After he’d made another bowl of soup for his own supper, and ate the bread Effie hadn’t eaten, he alternated between the den and the front porch, reading, sipping Uncle George’s whiskey, wishing the others would at least stop by to check in on them. Why hadn’t they already? Wouldn’t they wonder how Effie was faring? Wouldn’t they figure Henry was feeling listless and bored, and invite him over for a game of charades? Not that he would accept, no—he would decline, magnanimously. But still, it seemed a waste of good health and youth to spend an entire evening alone. Out on the porch, he couldn’t see any lights down at Clara’s. Had they gone out? Where would they have gone?

He tried Boswell again, reading in the den by the light of the kerosene lamp. He had to hold the book just so to see the page. The whiskey was calming him, wrapping him in a bubble that was safe from all bad feelings. Nor is it always in the most distinguished achievements that men’s virtues or vices may be best discerned; but very often an action of small note, a short saying, or a jest, shall distinguish a person’s real character more than the greatest sieges, or the most important battles.

The words turned abstract. He drifted off. He was outside in the night and the stars and planets and galaxies, giant and bursting with color, were low enough in the sky that he could have touched them from the rooftops. And then a clatter startled him, and the book fell to the floor.

It was Alma. She was standing in the foyer, holding the screen door open.

“I woke you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He muttered a greeting, confused, and gathered the quilt around him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “I always seem to be walking in on you.” She let the screen door slap shut behind her and stepped into the den, giving it a quick survey. “I saw the light in the window and thought”—she smiled sweetly—“I thought my fellow night owl must still be up.”

“I was,” he said. “I just nodded off.” He looked at the clock over the mantel. It was after midnight.