Page 3 of Room 1003

The final switch was stubborn, and I had to use both hands. Fingers straining, knuckles turning white, I heaved. With an almighty clank, I got the switch flipped. “Did that do it?” I called up.

There was no sound from upstairs.

“Dad?”

Still nothing.

I strained my ears to listen, thinking maybe Kit had gotten out of bed and Dad had gone to tuck him back in, but then, I heard his feet walking over the creaking floor above, and his voice came down the basement stairs. “Uh, Son? You’d better turn everything off.”

“What? Everything?”

“Everything!” he shouted, a hint of panic in his voice.

My father didn’t stress about anything, so to hear him anything other than totally calm got me into action. I flicked all the switches off, throwing me into pitch blackness. I pulled out my phone and turned on the flashlight, running back upstairs. Halfway up, I caught the first whiff of smoke.

Shit.

“Dad! Where are you?” The flashlight beam lit up the curls of smoke swirling near the kitchen ceiling. I couldn’t see any sign of fire, but if it was electrical, it could very easily be somewhere in the walls. My heart was hammering in my chest. One. Day. Just one day in the house, and I was going to burn it to the ground.

“Here!” my dad called, and with a thunder of footsteps, he came jogging down the stairs from the second floor, Kit in his arms.

My son lifted his head off his grandpa’s shoulder. “Papa? What’s going on? What’s that smell? Is that smoke? Is there a fire?”

“It’s okay, buddy,” I told him, taking his sleep-rumpled body from my dad’s arms. “We’re just going to have a little adventure. That sounds like fun, right?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed, rubbing a fist into his eyes.

We needed to find the source for the smoke, but first, better safe than sorry. We headed out onto the front lawn, not even stopping for shoes. I made my way quickly across the grass. The whole block was still and quiet, most windows dark. I really hoped we weren’t about to change that with a bunch of sirens and flashing lights. Not exactly the best first impression to make on our new neighbors.

I stopped next to the For Sale sign at the sidewalk, boasting that the house had been SOLD! I dropped to my knees, soaking my pants in the dewy grass, and put Kit down on his feet. He giggled and squealed at the feeling on his bare feet. His corkscrew curls bounced.

“Kit, I need you to stay here with Gramps for a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

I chuckled nervously. “Look,” I said, pointing down at our feet. “We forgot our shoes. We can’t go on an adventure without shoes. What if we cross the desert? We’ll get sand between our toes. Or if we swim across the ocean, fish might decide to take a nibble.”

He tilted his head back and laughed, and in the glow from the streetlight, I could see the gap from his missing tooth. “You’re so silly, Papa!”

I shared a look with my dad, and he nodded his reassurance. Then I ran back into the house to see what I could find. The smoke didn’t seem to be getting any thicker, so I took that as a good sign. I ran around and opened all the windows to clear it out, checking for signs of fire. The smoke had been thickest in the kitchen, so I started there. I found a black sooty mark around an outlet, and I tested the wall around it carefully, checking for heat, but it was cold to the touch. I glared up at the silent smoke alarm and made a mental note to change the batteries.

On the way back out, I grabbed our shoes, plus my keys and wallet. I wasn’t about to risk anyone’s life sleeping in here tonight. Besides, I wouldn’t get a single wink of sleep, for worrying. I would call someone tomorrow to come and take a look at the electrical work. “All right, everybody in the car,” I said, passing out footwear.

“Where are we going?” Kit asked, eyes wide.

“To a magical place called a hotel.” I tried to infuse my words with as much awe and wonder as I could.

“Wow,” Kit said, looking suitably excited.

I got him buckled into his booster seat, then closed the car door, straightening up and leaning on the side of the car for a second, taking a breath to myself. I let my eyes drift shut and felt the usual weariness tugging me down.

“You okay?” Dad whispered, too quiet for Kit to hear.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Just… tired.” He knew what I meant when I said that. It wasn’t just the kind of tired you felt at the end of a long day. This was a soul-weary exhaustion of never-ending grief. “I thought buying the house would help. Like it would feel like he was here with us.”

“He is here,” my dad said gently. “Here, where it counts.” He tapped his finger over my heart.

“I know.” I reached inside and tried to feel him in there, but the truth was, he was fading. It had been two years since my husband passed away, and I was desperate not to lose him completely.

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