Her chest thumped fast as a bird’s. Jarms snored quietly. The candles had melted to waxy flowers. He touched each one to make certain it had cooled. Satisfied, Matt perked the morning coffee in the kitchen. He returned with two cups—Jarms would sleep till noon—and set one on the end table next to Roland’s head. It was then he saw the old man’s eyes half open and his mouth slack. Matt sat in the sofa crook and eased his hand to Roland’s throat, but felt nothing other than his cooling skin. Inside the heavy coat the baby began to mew. Matt lifted her, coat and all. She was warm and he set her to his chest. Fresh milk was in the kitchen. Matt boiled some in a pan, weakening it with water like he might a calf. When it cooled, he put the mixture into the bottle. The baby took it and he rocked her in a kitchen chair. With her belly filled the child dropped off. Matt wrapped her in his coat once more and put her next to Jarms. Outside, the sky had gathered clouds enough to keep the worst of the cold back.
