Free Exchange Rate by Bonnie R. Paulson Page A

to better and best. The shift in the quality of life startled me. I’d been drifting, just existing on the borders of being happy. So fast, we’d gone from liking each other, kissing, hanging out, best-friend status to love you and marriage and physically joining together.
    My head spun and my muscles quivered.
    I sat on the mattress and leaned against the headboard to our borrowed bed. “Do you think we should go to the community?” Bodey’s opinion meant a lot to me. John’s did, too, but I couldn’t make up my mind which way to go.
    For some reason, I expected myself to shy away from any and all collections of organized people. My experience at the camp had burned me, but I hadn’t had a shower or seen a light bulb in forever. What if they did have music and a community that had electricity? I would trade so much of our hiking lifestyle for a steady place to call home. Even if it wasn’t the perfect society.
    Did I question John’s decision because he hadn’t asked our opinion, or did I really care about going?
    Bodey pulled up a leg and sat on the mattress with me. Picking at the quilt tie in the inches between us, he wiggled his pursed lips as he mulled over my question. He shrugged softly. “You know, I’m not sure. Dad doesn’t want to and I trust his reasons, but at the same time, Mike brought up some things I would consider trading other things for.” He sighed. “You wouldn’t believe how much I miss showers.”
    “Oh yes, I would.” I didn’t want to mention that even though we’d been under the blankets, I hadn’t wanted him to look under the covers in case I wasn’t clean enough. Trying to stay hygienic with little access to cleaning water or soap wasn’t easy, if even possible.
    “Do you miss your stuff?” He watched me, twisting the yarn between his strong fingers.
    This time, I shrugged. “Nah, it’s just stuff. I don’t even remember what I had.”
    He reached for my hand, his warmth caressing. “I don’t feel like I lost anything.” He leaned close and kissed me soft as air.
    I understood what he meant. We’d left a pile of ashes and burning supplies with more than we’d ever had. Our losses faded under the umbrella of happiness.
    He made me happy. For once in a long time, lightness filled my chest and I didn’t have an aching need to find the next place or return to a steady site. Bodey was sturdy and the house we were in – even temporary – gave me a consoled sensation I wanted to hold close for a long time.
    ~~~
    “T oo bad we can’t just stay in this room forever. No one could find us and food would just magically appear.” I unhooked the pack I’d claimed earlier and stuffed sweatshirts and socks inside the large pocket. The handmade quilt on the bed was made for a twin-sized bed but had been draped over a queen. I folded it tightly and tucked the material into the bottom pocket of my hiking pack.
    I bent at the waist and tugged on the loose sole of my boot. At the toe, the rubber piece pulled off in my hand, leaving a hole displaying the white of my sock. Lovely. I groaned. “Bodey, I need a new pair of boots. The sole’s bad on these.” Boots weren’t easy to come by. Especially my size.
    “Check Mary’s closet. She kept different sizes of everything on hand. I bet she has an entire new wardrobe in there you could pack.” Bodey pointed at the double sliding doors beside the entryway to the bedroom. He moved without rushing. Like he hadn’t yet put together the horrors in the house.
    Crossing the room, I didn’t expect much. She’d packed up her things, there was most likely nothing left. The panels slid open soundlessly, revealing neatly organized stacks of clothing on a rack above hanging clothes and shoes lined up neatly on the ground. “Wow.” I breathed, my nerves humming but stalled for a moment.
    Jeans in blues and blacks were my first stop. I’d lost so much weight over the last year, I didn’t have a clue what size pants I wore. To my