Not a Drop to Drink (Not a Drop to Drink #1)

“A kiss.”


“Oh, sure,” Lynn said offhand, surprised that such a small thing had made him uncomfortable. She leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on his cheek; Mother’s ultimate show of affection that had followed her down into sleep on the rare occasions.

“Uh, that’s not quite what I meant,” Eli said.

“What then? That’s how Mother always kissed me.”

Eli’s arms tightened around her. “I’m not going to kiss you like your mother. C’mere.”

His hand tightened in her hair, and Lynn was surprised when he brought his mouth to hers. Then pleased. He moved against her and she quickly understood that body heat could be made and not just conserved.

He pulled away from her. “Okay, that’s enough—or I’m going to have to throw myself into a snowbank.”

“Why’s that?”

Eli tucked her head under his chin. “I’ll explain some other time.”

“Fair enough.” Lynn settled in against him.

Eli stroked her hair for few minutes more before speaking. “Earlier, when you asked about Neva, I meant to tell you she made something for me to bring Lucy as a present.”

“Yeah?” Lynn waited for him to continue, irritated that Neva had come up in conversation yet again.

“She tried to make some kind of doll out of dried grass and sticks, but when I picked it up, it fell apart. Neva went to bed and cried. She said she has nothing to offer her little girl.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I kinda know how she feels. I almost didn’t come over here today for the same reasons. I didn’t . . . I wasn’t supposed to be the one in charge when we left the city, you know. Bradley was the strong one, the smart one, the one who knew what to do. We got out here and I could barely keep them alive. I’m learning but I still don’t have much to offer, especially to you.”

Lynn nestled her head underneath his chin. “You survived. You kept them both alive. You’re doing something right.”

“And I found you,” he added. “That’s pretty right, I think.”

“I think so too,” she said quietly, the sound of his heartbeat loud in her ear.

And they slept.

Lynn woke to the sound of Eli loading wood in the stove, the soft morning light rendering the basement the same gray as his eyes.

“I can do that,” she said.

“I know you can,” Eli answered, but kept loading it anyway.

She moved to the edge of the bed, where the pillow still smelled like him, and decided to lie there a few more minutes. He’d already dressed in his heavier clothes and was rubbing his hands against the chill of the basement. She burrowed farther under the covers, indulging herself in an unaccustomed lack of responsibility.

“Gets cold down here quick, once the fire goes low,” Eli said.

“Yeah, mornings can be chilly. Does your place hold heat okay?”

“I’ve got no complaints.” He shut the door to the stove and Lynn watched him for a moment, glad that she no longer had to hide her interest. He returned her gaze and smiled. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like somewhere else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like somewhere without subzero winters?”

“Mother would talk about going south sometimes,” Lynn said. “But I never wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause then we’d be like any other wanderers, carrying the only water you have and hoping you find more before long.”

“You’d rather have your pond and tough out the winters?”

“Much rather.”

Eli nodded. “When we left the city I was terrified, and we had a destination in mind. I can’t imagine walking without a goal.”

“How long were you out there, before you found the stream?”

“Weeks. Maybe even a month. I tried to keep track of the days but pretty soon I was measuring time more by how big Nev’s belly was getting, not in sunrises.”

“See many people out there?”

“Mostly it was just gunshots, some of them aimed at our feet. Although one whizzed right by my ear. No shout, nothing. Just a bullet coming for my head. I didn’t even know we were close to somebody’s water.”

Lynn could see it. Eli slogging through the last of the falling leaves at an incredibly slow pace so that Neva could keep up. Lucy probably trailing behind because of her swollen feet, maybe looking for grasshoppers as she went. And then a gunshot . . . Lynn recoiled as if she’d pulled the trigger herself. “Most people will at least give you a warning shot, like the ones you had—the ones aimed at your feet.”

“But not everybody.”

“No, not everybody.” Lynn got out of bed, put on her warmer clothes, and started a pot of coffee.

“That’s tempting,” Eli said, watching her. “But I should probably go. Neva will be worried if she wakes up and I’m not back.”