six hours out there, and when they came back in, they were both covered in sawdust and grinning like little boys.
“Your dad’s a good teacher,” Tom said.
“He’s a good man,” I said. “I think he’s figuring that out himself, finally.”
Sophie adores Tom. She calls him Uncle Tom, even though he isn’t her uncle anymore. He taught her how to draw a suspension bridge. She wants to be an engineer now. She tells everyone.
People ask me sometimes if there’s something more between Tom and me. My mother asks every Sunday. My friends ask. Even Rachel asked once, carefully, like she was afraid of the answer.
I always tell them the truth. I don’t know. Maybe someday. Maybe not. We’re both still healing.
We’re both careful now, the way people are after they’ve been through a fire.
But I’ll tell you one thing I do know.
