Eliza pushed the curtain back, allowing more air into the room. It was almost as hot outside as in, but the moving air helped a little. She stared into the dark street. In the bed behind her, Arthur moved restlessly. In the room down the uncarpeted hall, a child whimpered in his sleep.
Las Vegas could be so hot during the summer. She leaned her forehead against the window glass, thinking of the first New Mexican town she had lived in. She missed Elizabethtown. She loved her husband and her children, but there were times when she longed for those rustic log buildings with the bark still clinging to the outside, and Baldy Mountain looming above them to the east. The soft banks of Moreno Creek in the spring. Moreno River, she corrected herself with a smile.
“Eliza?” Arthur asked.
“Mama?” a small boy called.
She turned toward them.
Copyright © 2015 Loretta Miles Tollefson