Saint used the key to let herself into the Nix house.
Barely a day had passed, and she felt the void like a pain lodged deep in her chest. A glow from the landing light, the shade orange, throwing everything a little sullen, a little softer. She moved quickly from room to room but found nothing much at all. No signs of life outside of his job, no hint at the depth of the man she had looked up to her whole life.
Utility bills and vehicle insurance. Details of a checking account that carried a little over twenty thousand dollars. In the bathroom cabinet she found Advil and cologne and shaving foam and toothpaste. There was nothing hidden at the back of his closet behind his dress shirts and navy pants and old uniform.
She stood at the window in his bedroom and stared out at the land and the buckle between hills like the clouds weighed too heavy out there. And then she recalled his last moments. How she had drawn on him and seen no fear, just acceptance of an ending he had expected. She thought of his face, how he had emerged in slacks and a shirt even though he had come from the stable.
Her eyes fell to it.
There were too many stars out as she walked the path, her flashlight a guide as she drew up beside the stable. The horses had already been collected by a neighbor with enough land.
She took a breath as she opened the heavy door, and inside the scene had mercifully been tended because the red hay had been swept up neatly.
Saint pulled a cord to drear light from a naked bulb, saw nothing and sighed, until she looked up.
The ladder was strong, and she placed her feet carefully as she opened the hatch and emerged into a preserve of loft space neatly boarded and insulated. She heaved herself through. Boxes were stacked high, and in the center was a single rocking chair.
She carefully took a box down, sat back on the chair, and began to open the albums.
Hundreds of photos.
Nix through the years.
She traced them back, from recent to rookie, his moustache thinner back then.
And then before.
She sat back stunned.
For it told the very beginning of a story that ran a lifetime. She picked another one out, taken up by the Meramec River, their smiles unalloyed and beautiful. She saw Thanksgivings and white winters, easy summers and mountain hikes. Though most, she noticed, were taken on the same acres of land. A sanctuary she had struggled to understand the importance of.
Chief Nix once told her that to love and be loved was more than could ever be expected, more than enough for a thousand ordinary lifetimes.
And then, on the shelf, placed haphazardly, as if it would be discovered by chance on some distant date, she saw a single letter.
And on the envelope, her name.