“Heart and soul,” I sang, “I saw you standing there, heart and soul, you look just like a bear.”
“Those aren’t the words!” Arden laughed. She let her head fall to the side, giving in to the turns. The boys cheered when I dipped Arden effortlessly to the floor and clapped when I spun us around in place. When I took her across the room, darting toward the kitchen, a serious expression seized her face. “About before—” She glanced over my shoulder at Kevin, who had ventured out onto the floor, beer in hand as he made a clumsy pirouette. “I think I’m still a little out of it, and that emotional stuff, it’s probably just a side effect of—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.” There was a long pause, the piano notes ringing between us as we waltzed back toward the boys, our steps slower than before. Then she offered me a grateful smile.
When we spun our last spin, buoyed by the music and cheers, Caleb came toward us, gracefully stepping through the room. Behind him, Michael and Charlie were attempting wild moves, Michael spinning around the floor on his back.
“Can I have this dance?” Caleb asked. He extended his hand, palm up, waiting for mine.
“I don’t know—can you?” I challenged, unable to resist myself. It was that silly grammatical slipup the Teachers always called us on in School.
Caleb took my hand in his own and gave it a firm tug, pulling me toward him. The boys hooted behind us. Aaron brought his fingers to his lips in a loud whistle.
“I guess I can.” He smiled as my body pressed against his.
I rested my chin on his chest as Berkus gave up “Heart and Soul” for a slower, more tentative song. The heel of Caleb’s hand fit into the small of my back, resting on my spine. His breath warmed my neck. He wasn’t a bad dancer, but it seemed strange to have someone lead me around the floor. I had always determined the steps, the direction—sent my partner off into quick, elegant spins.
“Are you glad you came?” he whispered in my ear.
The boys kept their eyes on us for a while, until they realized there would be nothing to see, only swaying back and forth, and the occasional step to the side. It was not the grand performance Arden and I had put on.
“I am,” I said.
Berkus gave up his spot at the piano and climbed out onto the porch. A few others followed, along with Arden, and they all headed to the makeshift pool outside.
“I’m glad you came, too.” Caleb adjusted his body, moving closer so I fit in the grooves of his form. My eyelids lowered, the storehouse disappearing from view. I felt only the warmth of his chest next to mine. It would be so easy to stay here, like this, to spend the days in the dugout and the nights on raids with Caleb. The visions kept coming to me whenever my mind quieted, the images piled one on top of another. Arden and I would take care of Benny and Silas, making sure their hands were clean, teaching them to read and write. We’d work with them until they were scrawling full paragraphs across the mud walls and explaining the themes of A Winter’s Tale. With their new skills, the older boys could start organizing, sending out messages to other escaped orphans, and making further plans with Moss.
As for Caleb and me . . . all I wanted was more of this. The closeness of my chin on his shoulder, his hand resting on my back, the ease of being together, our bodies speaking even in silence.
“I’ve been thinking . . .” I said, pulling my head back to look at him.
Outside, Michael sprang off the rotting deck and into the air. “Bombs away!” he cried, leaving only a giant splash in his wake. He wiped some green muck from his face as he reached a rusty ladder. “Come on in, the sludge is warm!”
Caleb laughed and then turned back to me. “You’ve been thinking . . . ?”
“Califia,” I said, my voice thin with sudden nerves. “It seems pointless to go all the way there, now, risking our lives, when Arden and I could just live in the dugout. We’re safe here. She could help me teach the boys, and . . .” I looked into his green eyes hopefully. “And we’d be together—”
Caleb’s face tensed. He took a step back, breaking us apart. “Eve . . .”
I could feel every inch between us now, the space growing. Had he misunderstood? I cleared my throat. “I want to stay. I want to live at the camp, with you.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He lowered his voice as he spoke, his eyes darting outside to where the boys stood on the rotted porch, daring each other to jump.
“The King’s men are still after you. If they find us . . . the boys would be punished. And you’ll never be completely safe . . .”
I stepped away, widening the space between us even farther. Each word hit me in the chest, banging on the door to my heart, which had curled up inside itself and gone to sleep.