Rebecca waited for her hand to become firm again, picked up her phone, and then dialled Stewart’s number.
“Stewart?” she said. She couldn’t place where he was, but a considerable crowd seemed to be very happy about something.
“Rebecca! Hello! It stopped raining. The rain has stopped!”
“I just. I wanted to ask you …”
“Speak up! I can hardly hear you.”
“This is hard for me.”
“That means it’s important. So just say it, Rebecca. Just say it out loud.”
“I want you to come home,” she said.
Stewart did not immediately answer, but through the line she heard many people rejoicing.
“Soon,” Stewart said. “I’ll be there very, very soon.”
The phone no longer felt soft in her hand. In front of her was a man walking his dog. Feeling Rebecca’s joy, he turned and stared, but Rebecca did not care. She didn’t care that the teenagers on the other side of the park could feel what she was feeling. Or that everyone driving past could feel it. Or that people in their living rooms three blocks away could feel it. Rebecca did not care that anyone and everyone could feel what she felt and she knew that she would never care again.