Hudson mumbled something unintelligible, shifted in the bed so that his hand began to slip from Ben’s. Panicked, Ben grabbed it and held on until once again Hudson was breathing easily. And still he clung to the hand, afraid to let it go lest Hudson roll away from him and leave him alone to await the end of the night.

He looked at the clock. It was nearly four. He had survived the hour of ghosts. Who had called it that? He tried to remember. His grandfather, maybe. It was an apt description of that time between three and four in the morning, when the living slept and the dead were free to roam through houses, remembering when they had lived there themselves.

You’re too old to believe in things like that. His scientific mind recoiled at even the most casual acceptance of such an idea. But another part of him, a part that lay deep beneath the other, like a forgotten cellar or the hiding place of buried treasure, knew that there were things he could never, as hard as he tried, whatever logic or formulae he attempted to employ, understand. There were mysteries, and the only option was to accept them as such and marvel at their beauty.

He was—finally—growing tired. He closed his eyes. The rise and fall of Hudson’s breathing felt like the rise and fall of the ocean, and he imagined himself on a boat, rocking gently in a swelless sea. Beneath him lay things undiscovered, but he was content to stay there, rocking, and let them be.

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 47

“Hey.”

Caddie turned around. Rhodes, standing behind her, nodded at her. He’d gotten a haircut, she noticed, although somehow his hair still looked slept-on. “I heard about your dad,” he said. “How is he?”

“Okay,” she said. She indicated the stack of papers in her arms. “I’m just picking up some stuff for him. The doctor said he should rest for a couple of days, but he wanted to come to work. This is our compromise.”

Rhodes scuffed the carpet with one foot. “And you’re okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Caddie. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Okay,” Rhodes said, as if he’d run out of things to say.

“I’ll see you later,” Caddie said, turning to go.

“Tell him I said hi!” Rhodes called after her. “And hey—”

Caddie stopped. She turned around, waiting for him to continue. He rubbed a hand through his hair. That’s why it’s such a mess, Caddie thought. There was something sweet about the gesture, though; it made him seem even more awkward than he already did. As if that’s even possible, she thought.

“How’s that boyfriend?” Rhodes asked.

Caddie started to say something smart. Then she found herself stopping. “Gone,” she said. “He’s gone.”

“Okay,” Rhodes said again.

“Why?” Caddie asked him.