Maybe I’d said too much. “I’m not an authority.”

But Muncie suddenly looked as if she knew the truth. Or at least suspected it.

I stayed until a little after two, starting Muncie on the spinning. But the snug feeling had gone. And no amount of crackling fires could bring it back.

Ten

The deep snow hushed the house, especially Ezra’s room, with the curtain drawn. But Ezra hadn’t been hushed.

“Shep?” he asked as I appeared at the back-bedroom door.

He followed me with his eyes as I switched on the dresser lamp.

He was sitting up, waiting for me, two pillows propped behind his back.

“How you feeling?” I asked.

Ezra spoke in a husky whisper. “My mother said it snowed.”

“I could open the curtain and show you.”

“No!”

“Okay.” I ran my fingers through my hair, brushing back the sides.

All those days I’d waited for Ezra to open his eyes. To talk to me. Now we could talk, and I didn’t know what to say.

“It’s good you’re awake,” I tried again, turning back to him. “You’ve been pretty sick.”

“Sorry.” Ezra tried shrugging, but his shoulders only twitched. He licked his lips.

“Would you like something to drink? Your mother left this pink ice for you.”

I eased a frozen juice chip into his mouth with a blue plastic spoon, one Gran had kept since my baby days.

“Thanks,” he croaked.

“More?”

Ezra moved his head no.

“Where’s the dog?”

“Caleb?” I asked. “Out with Gran.”

“He’s a watchdog?”

“No,” I said. “A herding dog. He moves the sheep for us.”

Ezra looked confused.

“We give him commands,” I said. “And he does the work.”

“He takes orders—from you?”

“Sure. Why shouldn’t he?”

Ezra smiled. His eyes teased.

“Do you want me to read to you?” I asked.

Ezra nodded.

“What do you want to hear?”

“Your voice,” said Ezra.

I felt heat rise into my cheeks.

“Your voice,” Ezra said. “Kept finding me. When I was sick. I like your voice.”

I opened Slake’s Limbo, started reading.

Ezra watched me for a while, then shut his eyes.

I stopped and looked over at him. He was too still.

“Ezra?”

He opened his eyes, dark blue eyes. “Hmmm?”

He’s all right, I told myself. Just tired. “You like the book?”

“Um-hmmm,” Ezra said.

I started reading again. Finished a chapter. Closed the book on my finger.

“I think you’re going to live, Ezra Trent.”

Ezra sighed. “All things considered,” he said, “you might be right.”

I fed him another spoonful of frozen juice.

He stared up at me. “Thanks for the grub, ma’am.”

It took such an effort for him to talk. I looked down at the blue plastic spoon in my hand. “It’s nothing.”

“No,” he said wearily. “It’s something. Believe me, it’s something.”

My hands shook. I put the spoon down.

“Hey.” Ezra drew in a long breath. “You teach me about sheep?”

“You want to know about sheep?” I asked.

“Yeah.” His words slurred, his eyelids drooped. “And lambs.”