In some places, I’d heard the military was reforming and beginning a cleanup, but I wasn’t sure if that was true or not, or if it was, where they’d even begin. I’d also heard that the attempt to make repairs to the grid had stalled, in part because of the roads still blocked by inoperable vehicles, and a lack of workers.

We heard a lot of things from those passing through, but none of it could be corroborated, so we didn’t worry too much about it. We had enough to concern ourselves with as it was.

Movement caught my eye, and I watched Emily step out of our house and walk in the direction of the old barn. Where are you going, Showboat?

I plucked a few oranges to drop off at our gate later for hungry people passing through. There weren’t many travelers now, and the makeshift barriers that had once been constructed were mostly unmanned these days. Once, weapons and food had been the most sought-after commodities, but now, people looking for a home bargained with skills. We’d scored a doctor a year ago, a wonderful older man with a lifetime of knowledge. Just yesterday, we’d welcomed a woman who had been a math teacher and her daughter. They had been among the many who hadn’t found safety or shelter, though they’d managed to survive. Their hollow, haunted eyes told us survival had come at a price.

We’d welcomed many such people.

Being part of our community would help. The regular meals would heal their bodies, and Emily’s music would be part of healing their souls. I’d watched it happen before, gazes hung on her as her voice soared above the campfire, the notes somehow stitching closed internal wounds and reminding those who had witnessed ugliness and horror that beauty still existed in the world and that it was worth fighting for.

She’d written a treasure trove of music with every step we took on our journey home, songs that spoke first of anger and disappointment, then of understanding and love, and finally the reuniting of souls. And I listened to each one in awe, the miles we’d traveled coming right back and socking me in the gut. And I fell back in love with her all over again.

I set the oranges in the basket in front of our gate and then made my way to the barn and slipped through the door. I knew right where she was.

I walked past the car that had become unusable in the last few months since fuel could no longer be found, moving quietly toward the ladder that led to the loft.

My head cleared the high-up floor and there she was.

Emily Mattice.