Not just at the station, but here. In this town that's starting to feel less temporary.
The scene I find when I get home stops me in the doorway.
It's well past when Ivy should be asleep, but I heard voices on the back porch when I pulled in, so instead of panicking, I give them twenty minutes. Time to wrap up whatever dinosaur crisis they're currently managing. Time for me to not be the bad guy who breaks up Ivy's fun.
When I finally step outside, the cold hits first---that sharp Montana dark, the kind with teeth. Then I see them.
They're on the porch swing. Both asleep. The volcano book is open across their laps, and Clarence is sprawled directly on top of it, covering both of them like he's claiming territory. Like they're his humans now and everyone else can back off.
Gemma's head is tilted back, mouth slightly open, one hand still loosely holding the book's spine. Ivy's tucked into her side, the plastic stegosaurus pressed against her chest, her face smooth in that way it only gets in the deepest sleep---the kind where nothing can reach her.
The porch light catches the curl of Ivy's hair. The way Gemma's fingers haven't let go.
I should be angry. Ivy has school tomorrow, a bedtime, a routine I've been carefully rebuilding for months. Instead my feet have stopped moving and I'm just standing here in the cold, watching my daughter sleep in someone else's arms, not angry at all.
The screen door creaks when I step through it. Gemma startles awake, blinking.
"Oh---sorry." She looks down at Ivy, then back up at me. "We were just reading, and then---the volcano chapter---"
"What happened?" I keep my voice low so Ivy doesn't wake.
"Mrs. Delgado brought her home looking for you." Gemma shifts carefully, making room for me to reach Ivy. "I told her I'd keep an eye on her until you got back. She talks in her sleep. About velociraptors."
"I know." I scoop Ivy up. She makes a small sound and burrows into my chest, the stegosaurus still clutched in her fist. "I'm sorry. Lost track of time."
"It's fine. Really." Gemma looks at Ivy tucked against my shoulder, and her expression does something I don't have a name for --- soft and unguarded, like she forgot I was watching. "She's great."
"She is." The words come out quieter than I intend. "Thank you."
Gemma nods, pulling the abandoned blanket around her shoulders. Clarence drops from the swing and winds once around her ankles before disappearing into the dark.
"Go inside," I say. "It's cold."
She looks at me for a moment---something in her expression I can't quite read in the porch light---then pulls the blanket tighter and disappears through the door to her suite.
I carry Ivy in and tuck her into bed without turning on the light. The stegosaurus goes on the nightstand. She doesn't wake up.
Back in the kitchen, I stand at the sink and look out the window at the empty porch. Clarence has reclaimed the railing. The swing is still moving slightly in the breeze.
The porch light is still on. It's wasteful, I know, but I leave it on and go to bed.
Chapter 6
Gemma
Clarence stays with me that night.
I've been inside maybe ten minutes — still wrapped in the blanket I brought in from the porch, sitting on the couch in the dark because turning on a lamp feels like too much of a commitment — when something scratches at the door. Low. Insistent. The particular sound of an animal who has decided his schedule takes priority over mine.
I open the door. Clarence sits on the step, tail wrapped around his rear paws, staring up at me with the expression of someone who has been waiting an unreasonable amount of time and would like that acknowledged.
"You know I just got in here," I tell him.
He walks past me into the suite without being invited.
I swear Kevin the fern trembles slightly as Clarence passes. The cat ignores him with magnificent disdain and then jumps onto the couch and settles beside me. Not on my lap---he's not that committed to emotional support yet---but close enough that his tail drapes across my knee.
"So," I tell him, "apparently I'm the person Ivy falls asleep on now."
