“Someday,” Laurie said. He picked at his nails again, a drop of blood welling at the crescent moon, and Decker reached for his hands.
Laurie stiffened. Pulling back, he laced his fingers together. His face showed the price of knowing exactly who was standing in front of him.
Unease was understandable. Expected. Of course it was. So why did his stomach clench as Laurie shied away from him?
Laurie, who clung to him when he had too many drinks; Laurie, who tried his best to be a good neighbor. Laurie, who wanted toknow him.
“Now you know me. Are you better for it?” Decker asked, taking two tin cups and setting them on the warm side of the stove. “Do you wish you would have stayed in the safety of your chapel instead of knowing what’s out here?”
Laurie looked like he wished he had, but he set his jaw. “I planned on staying here. I would have found out the truth eventually. At least I’m here to know the one who saved me, instead of buried next to my uncle.”
“If our town was right when you came, you would have been oblivious, caught in the fog with the other humans.” Steam curled from the coffee cups and he nudged one towards Laurie.
A frown pulled at him, but he accepted the brew and gingerly took it by the handle to avoid burning his fingers. “Elias saw past the fog.”
“Elias was lost in the occult. Magic can consume a person, making them more supernatural than human.”
Laurie changed the subject, rushing on. “How long has it been? Since you’ve been—like me?”
Decker sipped at his liquor-halved coffee and scalded his tongue. “I haven’t been human for over a hundred years.”
“Practically an antique.” Laurie’s eyes regained their sparkle over the rim of his cup, and Decker smiled.
The next week passed in a haze of polite but determined questions from Laurie. Never too far from theGooseas if making up for lost time, he asked questions late at night, fighting sleep over a cup of coffee, and in the morning when he was joined by Lee and McKinney, he nearly quivered with questions to ask once they’d gone.
They didn’t speak of what lingered between them in hushed voices and legs brushing under the table, and they didn’t speak of the failing of Ender’s Blessing.
Life was perfect as it was, walking the line. Decker was content to smoke with Cricket on the veranda before helping Laurie and Sister Inez with the chapel—they replaced Laurie’s unwieldy wooden patches and slathered white paint across weathered boards until the church shone like a beacon in the night.
Cricket didn’t complain much about the work schedule, as long as Decker supplied him with tobacco and an open line of credit.
The saloon was even quieter without Safine and Willa, but they’d received a telegram from Silver Creek halfway through the week. No luck, so they all waited hopefully for them to return.
Laurie drank theGooseout of its coffee supply to be awake when Decker was. Their strolls in paint-splattered clothes after sundown were peaceful. Laurie was eager to finally meet the rest of the townspeople—those who remained after Elias.
Too many buildings still sat boarded up and empty, but Laurie’s chapel was one less. They worked tirelessly and waited for Safine and Willa to return.
Serenaded by Laurie’s instructions, Decker and Cricket hauled a weighty oak pew into position, the fifth in a row of ten. Armed with a rag and a bottle of linseed oil, Laurie polished the wood until it gleamed. Sister Inez cradled one of the oil lamps and it cast a glow over the dusty windows until she wiped them clean.
She never spoke about what happened with Nathan, but she’d opened up more to Decker—talking about family back in Santa Fe and her search for education and meaningful religion that brought her to Silver Creek and now here.
Laurie and Sister Inez could talk theology for hours, and those times Decker sighed and found a quiet corner of the chapel to piece together by Cricket’s side.
Sister Inez paused at the window, peering into the darkness before the rag dropped to the sill.
“Safine and Willa.” Her skirts swished across the freshly-swept floor and she threw the door open as they trotted in from the west.
Safine grinned. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Reining in her mare, she slid down. Her hair had frizzed in the wind, becoming a halo in the lamplight as she drew Sister Inez in and kissed her. Decker didn’t think he’d ever seen Safine smile so widely.
Willa greeted her with a tilt of her head.
Cricket grinned and leaned on the stair railing. “Decker, how come you never kiss me like that when I come here?”
“I’m married.” He gave them their moment, but once Sister Inez’s hand slid away from its lingering touch on her face, he swept Safine into a hug.
She squirmed in his arms, smelling of sweat and the miles they rode, while complaining he smelled of mildew and bat shit. After all of the hours he spent in the chapel, maybe he did. She finally squeezed him back.
“You and Laurie sure did some work on the church,” she said, slinging one arm around his neck as she surveyed the fresh paint and tidy steps.
