He felt elation. “You don’t like it here?”

“No, but I feel something here.”

“You feel what?”

“Something.”

Ruth was hard to understand.

“I mean,” she went on, “it’s like I’m supposed to be here for something. Something big. It’s a feeling in my stomach.”

Pete nodded. “Well, it’s hard to find work here.” By “hard,” he meant he had a better chance of becoming president of the United States than finding a job bagging groceries.

“I know. I know it is.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t know what it is about this place, though. I don’t know why I feel this way.”

“Well, it’s part of your history, I guess. I mean, you were born not far from here.”

“Yeah, but it’s deeper than that. You know how it is after Thanksgiving?”

“Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, you know how everything feels when Christmas is on its way?”

“I don’t follow you.” Rarely did he ever.

“C’mon,” she said. “You know how even though nothing is different about the world—the weather is sorta the same—it feels like a totally different place to live? Like there’s something magic in the air?”

“Are we really having a conversation about the magic of Christmas right now?”

“No.” She swatted his shoulder. “Listen to me, will you? I feel that same sorta happy feeling I get in December, but not in the same sorta way.”

“Well,” he said. “I’ll be sure to pick up some garland on the way home tomorrow.”

She laughed. “I mean it. I feel it, I really do. Don’t you feel anything?”

“Do I feel anything?”

“Yeah, don’t you feel something?”

He kissed her forehead. He wanted to tell her that he felt homesick. He wanted to admit that he missed home so bad he could taste it. He wanted to tell her that he felt alone in this godforsaken city, without a friend in the world except a spoiled bloodhound. He wanted her to know how bad he missed his bunk on Miss Warner’s farm and waking up to train his dogs to follow trails.

He wanted to, but he couldn’t. His life half belonged to her now. And her happiness half belonged to him. And even though he was dreaming of home, he would not tarnish her newfound happiness.

“I miss Vern,” he said.

“Me too.”

“And I miss Paul.”

“Oh, so do I.”

“I do not miss Miss Warner.”

She started laughing. “Not even just a little bit?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I know you miss home,” she said in a serious voice. “I miss it too. But I’m glad to be here with you.”

“I don’t miss it that much,” he lied.