It was about four months after Rebecca had returned to the "Garden" settlement — before all the excitement with the babies, while Allison was still in her second trimester. The snow seemed to be letting up, but the ground was still frosty most mornings. The outer windowpanes certainly were this day.

Rebecca squinted out from under the covers - the sun had probably been up for an hour or so, but she'd managed to doze back off until the increasing light (and insufficiently decreasing nighttime chill) prevented another thump of her mental snooze bar. Sam was still curled up tight just a few inches away from her — she hadn't been joking about her toes getting cold at night. In early December, Rebecca eventually demanded Sam at least keep socks on to dampen the shock when she tried to steal her body heat.

She smiled at the red-tufted lump beside her in the blankets and sleeping bags, then looked away to the improvised wood stove that was the main source of heat in the apartment. It was an upgrade over the old fire barrels, but still based on them — she'd remembered her uncle's cabin and its large stone-encased stove, a European design where short hot fires would heat the stone around them so the warmth would slowly radiate out over the next several hours.

They'd attempted to follow suit with the apartments in the complex. Electric heating was just too inefficient — it basically generated heat by wasting power. Even warming one or two apartments would run through their daily solar and wind accumulation way too fast, even if it weren't for the shorter days and frequent snow accumulating on the solar panels. So, they'd added duct "chimneys" to the 50 gallon drums, routed to vents that would eventually lead outside, but sloping gently across the rooms to maximize heat exchange from the departing smoke. The bases of the drums were filled up with rocks, chunks of concrete scrap, and shovelfuls of gravel to store heat under the coals.

Sam and Leonard thought up re-usable plywood forms that fit around the drums, adding shells of quick-mix cement and crumpled-up chicken wire (for strength) around the top halves for even more thermal mass. Often, those incorporated a hollow spot on top for a cooking pot.

Some residents opted to let their daytime fires burn down the entire way and build a pile of kindling before retiring for the night, ready for a quick morning ignition. Rebecca and Sam had decided they got a more restful night's sleep if they stoked a mid evening fire and let it burn down into coals that would slowly smolder overnight. It kept the temperature more comfortable, and it didn't use a match or a little bit of lighter fluid every single morning. The benefits weren't purely practical though. The soothing ritual of watching a crackling fire gradually dim every evening before bed, usually curled up next to Sam, went a long way to helping Rebecca relax. God knows everyone needed as much mental health reinforcement as they could get.

Unfortunately, that decision meant more time getting the fire going again in the morning. Rebecca regretted the tradeoff a little every day, but groaned quietly and told herself she was going to brave the cold so Sam didn't have to. She scooted up to a sitting position, hastily digging out the sweatshirt she kept under the covers, pulled it on over the long-sleeved soft thermal shirt she slept in, and pivoted to stuff her feet into her shoes for extra insulation from the cold floor. Even with the carpets they'd managed to spread in many parts of their increasingly cozy home, there was still concrete right underneath, and no rug near the stove for fire safety reasons.

(Ronnie and Leonard assured everyone the building's sprinkler system did seem to be pressurized, and they'd made sure everyone had a few extinguishers, but it wasn't like there was a fire department to call, or renter's insurance to file claims with. Everyone got a carbon monoxide detector running off of rechargeable batteries, too.)

She pulled a spare blanket from the wooden rocking chair next to the bed and hugged it tightly around her as she crossed the room, lifted the lid on the metal trunk they used for storing anything flammable near the fire, and shoved two balls of crumpled up paper into the front of the barrel. After building a a small cone of kindling around them, she stirred up the ash underneath and blew on the coals for a minute or so to set them aglow again, before closing the crude mesh door over the opening.

She sighed with satisfaction when a flame finally sprung from the curling, blackened edges of the paper, and set the covered pot next to the stove into its dedicated hollow. They always had that ready to go lately, for morning tea or oatmeal (ugh... they needed to find more things to flavor the plain bulk stuff with...) and so forth.

Glancing at the bathroom door, she decided she could wait a little longer if it meant getting to warm up by an established fire after braving the cold seat, so she added two chunks of scrap pine lumber to the growing fire and slipped back under the covers for a while.

Propped up on her pillow, she drifted lightly for a time, glancing at the fire periodically through half-lidded eyes. Sam had rolled over and nestled up under her arm when she returned to bed — losing her hat in the process — and when Rebecca wasn't watching the fire or just keeping an ear on it while she rested her eyes, she enjoyed tilting her head down to nuzzle her cheek against Sam's tousled bedhead. They'd be coming up on six months of being "official" soon, and things with her were starting to feel like a pleasant new normal as they grew out of the initial shiny period.

That thought prompted her to wrap her other arm around Sam too and hold her tighter, and after a few minutes, Sam hummed happily and spoke without opening her eyes. "Mmm. Good morning, sugar. You got the fire going again, didn't you?"

Rebecca didn't answer verbally, but straighten some of Sam's hair with one hand and kissed the top of her head. From above, she saw the edge of Sam's cheek rise in a smile and felt her arm wrap around her waist under the covers. She tolerated that as long as she could, but eventually reached down and shifted it a few inches higher so Sam's elbow was't resting on her bladder.

"Hah. Sorry." Sam opened her eyes and tilted her head back to squint at her, and then scooted up to kiss her cheek. A bell rang twice in the distance, loud enough to be heard, but not to be impossible to go back to sleep after. Sam sat back, more upright. "I guess Allie's almost ready. Did you still want to go today?"

Rebecca smiled a little. "Yeah, if you're up for it, or you're welcome to stay and sleep in. I suppose it's too cold for you to give me a better offer." Sam's only reply was a mock shiver and pulling the blankets tighter around herself.

It was Sunday, and the polite chime was Allie's half-hour warning for her loosely-scheduled weekly service. Rebecca had gone the first couple of times just to be supportive, but soon discovered that even without a personal religious affiliation, and no particular tie to Christianity, she found them to be a comforting ritual. Aside from helping everyone remember what day it was, she realized she went for the doses of optimism and faith as much as anything else. Maybe a little sense of community too.

The way Allison ran the services was interesting. Usually she read a verse or two from her bible, sometimes linking it to recent or upcoming events, often asking if anyone had questions and leading a little discussion. She'd close by asking them all to sit silently for ten or fifteen minutes, leading with what Rebecca recognized from her psychology classes as the first few steps of guided meditation, talking attendees through clearing their minds and centering their focus on the immediate present... then growing quiet herself after encouraging anyone who felt moved to say something to speak up and share it with the group. After some amount of time, she'd reach out and squeeze the hands of the people seated next to her, and the little ripple of noise through the room would rouse everyone to wrap up. Usually there'd be a pitcher flask of tea, cocoa, or coffee, depending what Allie and Leonard had managed to rustle up that week for people to mingle over afterwards. Rebecca routinely skipped the coffee and let Sam have a cup all to herself, but they often shared a mug the other days, lingering and participating in conversations even if they didn't tend to initiate them.