Eli, he did not move. Go to sleep, Maggie. It is too cold. The fire is dying. You will freeze.
I am fine. You are not fine, she snapped, her fear making her bold. And I am freezing. The quilt is heavy enough for two, but not for one in this cold. Eli rolled over. in the dim light from the stove vents, his face was unreadable.
"Please," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Just just for the warmth. I do not ask for anything else," he hesitated. She saw the war in his eyes, the physical need for warmth, battling the mental fortress he had built. "Finally, with a heavy sigh, he stood up.
He picked up his pillow. " "Stay on your side," he said gruffly. "I will. " They lay in the bed, the iron frame groaning as he settled his weight. They were stiff as corpses. A clear foot of space lay between them. A no man's land of cold sheet.
Maggie lay on her back, staring at the invisible ceiling. She could feel the heat radiating from him. It was a tantalizing, terrifying warmth. The wind shrieked outside, a lonely, desolate sound. "I hate the wind," Maggie whispered.
It was not a conscious decision to speak. The words just leaked out of her loneliness. "It wears a person down," Eli said into the dark. "It sounds like New York," she said. "Not the wind, the noise, the constant noise.
I thought coming here, I thought it would be peaceful. Peace is something you carry inside," Eli said. "You cannot find it on a map. " "I do not think I have ever carried it," she confessed. Silence stretched between them, but it was softer now. The cold forced them to be aware of their shared humanity.
My parents died when I was 12. She said the cholera took them both in a week. Sarah and I, we were alone. Eli did not speak, but he shifted slightly, turning his head toward her. We worked in a shirt factory 12 hours a day.
My fingers were always bleeding. and two. She let out a dry, humorless laugh, but the rent kept going up and Sarah got sick. She needed medicine. She paused. The shame rose in her throat, hot and acrid.
But the darkness gave her permission. She needed him to know if he was going to reject her. Let it be for the truth, not for the whispers of a town that didn't know her. A man offered to help, she said, her voice trembling. He owned the building, he said.
He said if I came to his rooms, he would forget the rent. He called himself a protector. She heard Eli's breath hitch. He went very still. I did what I had to do.