Holden nodded. That's all I'm asking. He stood, wincing slightly as his body protested, and headed for the stairs. Halfway up, he paused and looked back. For what it's worth, you're good at this.
The cooking, the cleaning, all of it. We're better with you here than without you. Then he was gone, and Evelyn was alone with the dirty dishes and the fire burning low in the hearth. She cleaned up slowly, her mind spinning. She could leave tomorrow.
Pack her canvas sack, walk to town, catch a ride on a supply wagon heading east. It would be easy, safe, exactly what she'd done a dozen times before. But something kept her rooted in place. Maybe it was the room upstairs with the blue curtains and the key that locked from the inside. Maybe it was the way Levi's harmonica drifted through the walls every night, sad and searching.
Maybe it was the way Holden had looked at her just now, not like she was a stranger, but like she was someone who mattered. Or maybe she was just tired. Tired of running, tired of sleeping in barns, tired of waking up every morning in a new place with the same old fear. She finished the dishes and banked the fire. Then she climbed the stairs to her room.
Her room, still strange to think of it that way, and locked the door behind her. The key turned with a solid click, and Evelyn stood there in the dark, listening to the wind rattling the windows and the faint sound of Levi's harmonica coming from somewhere below. She didn't make a decision that night, didn't pack her bag or plan her exit or convince herself to stay. She just lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, caught between the life she'd been running from and the one she was too afraid to reach for. It should hold.
The storm hit 2 days later, and it hit hard. Evelyn woke to the sound of wind screaming past the house like something alive and furious. The windows rattled in their frames, and when she looked outside, all she could see was white. Snow falling so thick and fast it erased the world. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs.
The brothers were already up, moving through the house with tense, focused energy. Holden was checking the windows, making sure they were sealed tight. Jonah was hauling in extra firewood. The twins were in the kitchen arguing about whether they'd brought in enough supplies. "We've got plenty," Caleb insisted.
"We've got enough for us," Cain shot back. "Not enough if we're stuck here for a week." "We're not going to be stuck here for a week." "You don't know that." Levi was sitting at the table, his face pale.
"What if the barn roof doesn't hold?" "It'll hold," Holden said, his voice steady. "But what if it doesn't?" "Then we'll fix it." "In the middle of a blizzard?"
Holden stopped what he was doing and looked at his youngest brother. "Levi, it'll hold, and if it doesn't, we'll deal with it. That's what we do." Levi nodded, but he didn't look convinced. Evelyn moved to the stove and started making coffee.
It was the only thing she could think to do, give them something warm, something normal, something to hold on to while the storm tried to tear the world apart outside. The day dragged on in slow, tense increments. The wind never let up and the snow kept falling, piling up against the windows and the doors until it felt like the house was being buried alive. The brothers took turns checking on the livestock, coming back inside covered in snow and shaking from the cold. By midday the temperature inside the house had dropped despite the fire roaring in the hearth.