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She said nothing, but I noticed how her breathing had quickened.

“Let’s get to bed,” I said with a hand on her shoulder. “It’s late.”

With a nod, she followed me out into the dark corridor. I had meant to walk her to her door, but as we passed mine, she grabbed my arm. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“In my room?” My voice cracked as I said it. Heat didn’t just fill my cheeks but my entire body.

“I could sleep in a chair?”

“The bed was my father’s,” I said, “and it’s plenty big for two, but the room isn’t as warm as yours.”

“I don’t care. I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

“All right.”

I opened the door and let her step past me inside. She hadn’t ever been in here, but she didn’t look around. She simply stood in the middle of the floor with her shawl wrapped around herself.

“Lie down if you want,” I said. “It’s warmest toward the wall.”

“Can you put out the lamp first?”

I turned the switch and darkness filled the room. The bedding rustled as she climbed into bed. On any other night I would have changed into pajamas, but I only removed my shoes before I lay down on the bed’s other side and pulled the one free blanket over myself. How lucky it was I had two.

“Are you comfortable?” I whispered.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good night.”

“Good night, Selma.”

I turned my back to her because it seemed like the right thing to do, letting her have her space. I closed my eyes, but I was too tense to find any rest. Lilja felt the same, it seemed, because she tossed and turned.

“You’re shaking still,” I said.

“I’m cold.”

“You can have my blanket.”

“I couldn’t do that, but… but can I move closer to you?”

I swallowed around the dryness in my throat. “Sure.”

I turned to lie on my back, and the mattress dipped as Lilja came closer. She nestled herself into my side, and I put my arm around her because… well, she was cold and I wasn’t. I would share my warmth with her. She had taken off the shawl I found when I rested my palm against her back. The scent of pine needles from her hair was strong so close to her. She smelled of something else too. Of wind and sunshine on stone and blooms in spring.

“Selma,” she whispered, “I’m so happy I’m here with you.”

“I feel the same.”

“Will you let me stay?”

“Of course. You’ve done a great job in the shop.”

She moved an inch closer to me. “But what if they find me?”

“Your foster mother, you mean?”

“Yes. Will you let me stay, then, too?”