The mail carrier left the post office at dawn with his bundle of parcels and letters and traveled the narrow, plowed strip of road through a haze of snowfall, delivering his bundles. Snow blowing sideways in big drifts. The temperature ten below zero. Wipers scraping. At noon he came to a place where the snow had blown across the road almost entirely, except for a single plowed lane. He followed the snowy trench of road along the river’s frozen edge. Tires rolling, snow crunching softly. White flakes blowing. At the final mailbox, he unlatched the metal door and set the letter inside. The envelope wasn’t made out to Red Dahl, but the address was right. He put up the metal door and drove on.

XXVII

I woke to the sound of wind. Gusting on the door, on the window. I got up and put on clothes and pulled on my coat and boots. I was going to sneak out. I had to.

I went to the bed and looked at Jack sleeping. His bruised face, his unruly hair.

All I can say is this: Some things you want so bad, it rips you up inside. It turns you inside out.

“Hi,” Matty said.

Ava turned. Matty lay in his makeshift bed, looking at her.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to go for a while.”

“Where?”

She went and crouched beside him. “Home. I’ve been away too long.”

He sat up. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I’ll come back.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

He was silent.

“I left some money on the table,” she said. “For food.”

“Okay.”

“People will miss me if I don’t go.”

He sat there, studying her. Saying nothing. He drew up his legs and clasped his knees. “You could call my phone if you need me.”

She nodded. “That’s a good idea. And you could call me. If you need me.”

“It’s okay, Ava.”

“It’s okay?”

“I’ll watch out for Jack.”

They stared at each other.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I don’t want you to leave this room.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of him.”

“Lock the door when I leave.”

“Okay.”

She watched him a moment longer. Then she straightened and walked to the window and parted the blinds. Snow drifting down, wind. The glass vibrating softly in its frame. No cars out there but her own. She opened the door and turned. “Matty?”

He was still looking at her.

She said, “Don’t be afraid.”

They each were silent: Ava afraid, and Matty untroubled. He started to play with the cars beside his blanket. She watched him a moment. Cold blowing in. Whirl of snow.

She stepped outside and closed the door.

She stood in the snow until the lock clicked.

XXVIII