“Are you sure you want to sleep here?” Katie asked as she tucked the blanket edge into the hay. “It's going to get colder.”

Neil motioned toward the folded quilt that sat nestled in the hay.

“It may not be enough,” Katie warned. “We'll leave the door unlocked, so you can come sleep by the fire if you get cold.”

Who knew? Neil would probably tolerate winter better than summer and the hayloft did look cozy even with the open loft door. That, she suspected, was what Neil was after: the big square of open air between him and the stars whom, apparently, he no longer felt were watching.

“Stay?” Neil asked.

Katie shook her head. “No, I can't. Mallory wouldn't allow it.”

It wasn't the real reason, and she winced as his eyebrows drew. She'd spent almost all day trying to convince Neil that Mallory and Jeremy weren't threats, and now she was throwing rules at him like they were in charge. But it was their house.

She resisted a sigh and sent him a smile. “I'll see you in the morning.”

By the time she'd reached the ladder, Neil’s eyes had already returned to the moonlit yard. He should be fine. He couldn't wander off too far without proper light, and she doubted he'd tried. The haybarn was locked so wild animals couldn’t get into it.

She couldn't stay with him. That was sending mixed signals and now that she was home, she didn't have to pretend anymore. She walked through the yard, hugging herself. She'd thought when she'd gotten home, life would resolve, but it seemed she'd only traded one set of problems for another.

And then a whisper came out of the dark. “Katie?”

She gasped but used the same breath to squeal, “Clark!”

She saw his outline, felt his arms wrap around her. He felt short now, when he never had before, but it was a good size, a few inches taller, comfortable, not looming. He smelled like the rest of her villagers, like sun and rain and the faintest floral hint of the inside of his home. He squeezed her, and he felt like her father had, a taunt layer of muscles smoothing the ridges of his ribs. Like a villager. Like a human.

“Katie, I'm so sorry!” he whispered. “I should have known something was wrong! I should have come look for you.”

“You wouldn't have found me,” Katie said. “Tucker told you?”
“Tucker, no,” he said. “Tucker didn't breathe a word, except when I begged him to tell. Bonnie thought she saw you ride past in Tucker's truck. She told Dad you were probably just on a break, but he's furious. That's why I couldn't come until now.”

“Why should he be furious?” Katie hissed. “He has no right to say whether or not I can live in the village!”

“It's us, Katie,” Clark said. “He doesn't want you with me. But he'll calm down and . . . I think I figured out a way without waiting for him to die.”

Katie closed her eyes, almost afraid to hear. “How?”
“You can't tell anyone yet, not even Mallory.”

“Okay.”

“Remember that hermit that lives on the edge of the creek who used to yell at us to get off his land?”

“Yes.”

“His name is Mr. Maton. He had a stroke out in his orchard, and I've been going out to check on him. We've become friends. He told me when he was little and the blackout first started, most of the families drank from the river because you could then. But his grandfather drilled and found an artesian well on their land. And they kept it a secret for almost forty years until it collapsed in on itself.”

“So there's another well in town?” Katie asked.

“Not yet, but there could be,” Clark said. “He doesn't have any children or any family left at all. I told him I'd buy the land from him if he'd let me pay in installments. He can live there for as long as he lives, and I've been paying him in supplies to make him as comfortable as he likes. I was worried still, that I couldn't pay enough before he dies. I think it's only a year or maybe less with his health going down. But he said last week that he put in his will that the land was to go to me because he's got no used for it after he's gone. And once we get a well, Father can't control everyone anymore. At least, not through threats of water.”

“What about Jeremy and Malory?” Katie asked. “Your father told me when I left that he didn't want me to come back and, if I did, he'd stop selling us water.”

“I'm not sure he actually will,” Clark said. “He's got the water, but Jeremy has the pigs. But even if he does, I'll get water to you. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you again, ever, not if I can help it.”

Her older, wiser self knew better: there was no way he could make such a promise, not in a world where even the police could make offers to buy her. But she did believe it, because he was Clark, because they'd finally ended this dance of denial, because somehow Clark always found a way.

"Katie!" Malory called from the house doorway.

Katie and Clark both huffed a laugh as the moment was gone. She pushed him away but slowly. "Go for now. No one knows we're together."

"But we are together," Clark whispered.

"Yes." Katie's smile grew in the dark, even after he left.

He kissed her again, impulsively, and then disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

Her city shoes crunched against the crushed leaves and dry grass, but it was a comforting sound. She wasn't sure how things would work out, but they would. She bit her lip against a grin and returned to her sister's house.