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“Not everything,” he said. “Not the important things. My kids are
safe. You’re safe. That’s all I really care about. This”—he said
motioning—“is just stuff. Most of it can be replaced. It just takes
time.” When he finished, he squinted at something in the rubble.
“Hold on for a second,” he said.
He walked toward a pile of charred debris and pulled out a
fishing pole that had been wedged between blackened planks of
wood. It was grimy, but otherwise looked undamaged. For the
first time since they’d arrived, he smiled.
“Josh will be happy about this,” he said. “I just wish I could find
one of Kristen’s dolls.”
Katie crossed her arms over her stomach, feeling tears in her eyes.
“I’ll buy her a new one.”
“You don’t have to. I’m insured.”
“But I want to. None of this would have happened if it hadn’t
been for me.”
He looked at her. “I knew what I was getting into when I first
asked you out.”
“But you couldn’t have expected this.”
“No,” he admitted. “Not this. But it’s going to be okay.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true. We survived and that’s all that matters.” He
reached for her hand and she felt his fingers intertwine with hers.
“I haven’t had a chance to say that I’m sorry.”
“Why would you be sorry?”
“For your loss.”