“We’re going to rebuild. That’s what we’re going to do. I’ve already talked to Judah Canter about the work.”

“Jesus, Chris. The work. Even with the insurance, the money it’s going to take . . .”

“I know.”

She looked at the picture on the rail, talking to herself. “I can go back to Earlys, steal back some of my hours from Vianey. She’ll understand.”

“Well, maybe you should think about something other than working in a bar, since you’re a mom now and all. We need to keep you respectable.” Chris kissed the top of Jack’s head; he was awake and blinking. God, his eyes are beautiful. Like his mother’s. It was almost like Jack knew he was home, too. “I’ve been talking to Homer Delahunt about his bookstore in town. He’s trying to get out from underneath the place. He’s looking for someone, anyone. He won’t drive a hard bargain.”

Mel granted him a ghost of a laugh. “Chris, we don’t have the money to fix this house, much less buy a bookstore. I don’t know anything about managing a place like that, and neither, for that matter, do you.”

“You can learn, and it seems I may have come into some money.” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a folded-up letter. Inside the letter was a check.

Mel read them both. “You sold a story?”

“Yeah, I did. Just a small one, to an even smaller literary magazine in Arizona.”

She hugged him and Jack both, tight. “I’m so proud of you. It’s great.” This time her smile was genuine, but she held up the check and read it again. “I mean, it really is great, Chris, but this barely covers the cost of one of our windows.”

“I know. Truth is, short stories don’t pay a whole lot. I guess I need to learn how to write a novel now.”

“Do you have any ideas for one?”

Chris smiled. “Yeah, a few.”

—

THEY WALKED AROUND for a while longer, surveying the last of the damage together, before making their way back out to his truck. With the true onset of fall, it was getting darker earlier, and there was even a chill, the coming night showing sharper teeth. In another month or so they could stand out here with their breath pluming in the air, frost sparkling on the caliche. But now, although the sun hadn’t gone down, a full, silver moon had already risen. It was one of those moments when both sun and moon were in the sky at the same time, fighting for attention, hanging high above the Big Bend and each lighting it in its own beautiful way.

Everything was so clear and illuminated and perfect, the world around them a painting.

“How’s Joe?” Mel asked. “Is he still back east?”