CHAPTER 49

On one of the last warm days in October, EmT wandered out of the kitchen door, leaned against the warm plywood wall, and closed his eyes. 

For weeks now, things had been rough. At home, every day of the last three weekends had been filled with the noise of building the new, indoor steps to the basement. The banging filled him with apprehension. His nightmares started to return.

And now the construction of the new dining room and kitchen filled the Crawlback Inn with loud disturbance from eight in the morning until almost four o’clock.  But just in that moment, everything was still. 

A breeze that felt like cool silk poured across his face and through his hair. He could hear the boys two blocks over screaming about a gopher ball. Some of them shrieked with cheers of joy while others groaned with disappointment.  

Em T listened for a long time; there were no machine guns or grenades going off, no helicopters, no cries for help; only the sounds of birds and baseball. 

He took a deep breath and then another. The hum that had been ringing in his ears disappeared; somewhere inside, a small part of him that had been gone, came back. EmT took one more breath and the lips that had refused to move for almost five years formed one word over and over, A whisper to himself. 

“Maa-taan-a, Mont-ana, Montana.”