Eileen found herself zoning out as her little car rolled down the road to Silent Hill. The weather was cold and blustery, and had been for weeks. The trees on either side of the narrow county route stood out like dark spikes against the white ground, leafless but for the pines that held fast against the wind. The road itself was a wide black ribbon curving through the gray and white hills.

Picturesque…if you go for that kind of thing, I guess.

Few cars were out this early in the morning, and those that were appeared suddenly around bends and twists in the road, their sounds muffled by the snow. She forced herself to concentrate on the road.

There's a hairpin curve coming up in about a quarter mile. Better start slowing down now.

Funny how well she knew every little twist and turn, every bump and pothole and seam in the asphalt. Funny, too, how quickly she'd learned them when she had to.

Guess when something's important, you make the extra effort.

She'd been to Silent Hill for day trips with her parents when she was a little kid, just like every other kid in Ashfield. Back then, she'd always been too excited to sit still during the drive there, and by the end of the day she'd always worn herself out and would fall asleep in the back seat on the way home. This road had merely been what lay between home and the amusement park. But now, years later, she was the one at the wheel, and the car knew the road all too well. Even in the powdery snow that had been falling all morning, the landmarks stood out like familiar friends.

Eileen made the round trip each Saturday like clockwork, driving up early in the morning and leaving late in the afternoon. These days, it was dark when she arrived, and nearly dark again when she left. Still, she hadn't missed a Saturday yet, not even three weeks before, when the snowfall had been so heavy that she could barely see more than a hundred feet in front of her.

Today was not like every other time she'd driven this road, though. Today was a banner day, the day she'd been waiting for for months. She was older now, but she was more excited than she could ever remember being when she was that little kid. Excited…and maybe a little scared.

Today was the day that Henry was going to be discharged from Brookhaven Hospital.

A couple of weeks after Henry had started speaking again, they'd moved him down to one of the larger rooms on the second floor. This was a two-person room, and her first thought when she saw it was to wonder whether he could deal with a roommate in his current condition. Fortunately, the other bed in the room hadn't been needed, and the whole space was his. He kept the room tidy and clean, with only a few magazines on the spare bed, and the books that she brought for him in a stack next to the magazines. The bright leaf from last fall hung above the extra bed opposite his own, the only decoration in the otherwise bare room.

"Nice and big, huh?" she asked him. "And you've got it all to yourself."

"Quiet time of year," he replied.

"Really?"

"Andy tells me that this place is more popular around the holidays."

She didn't know how to respond to that.

He said very little else that day, but he smiled a few times when she asked him a question or made a joke. When he did speak, his voice was so soft that she could barely hear him. She got the feeling that he was almost…well, afraid of talking much, but she had no idea why he would be.

Every week since then had been the same. She drove down early, leaving Ashfield before sunrise, and was escorted straight to his room. He always seemed happy to see her. He'd ask her about her week, and she'd tell him. Then, she'd read to him or they would watch TV until lunchtime. Their mutual-favorite game show came on at 10:30, and a friendly competition had spring up between them to see who could get more of the answers right. Because of this, over the last couple of months, Eileen had decided that Henry would make a hell of a partner for team Trivial Pursuit someday. After lunch, there was plenty of time for a book or more TV or talk, until it was time for her to leave. It seemed like nothing special, but she looked forward to it anyway.

At his request, the doctors allowed her to bring him newspapers from Ashfield. It had been long enough since their ordeal that the papers had moved on to other news, but even then she still scanned each page to make sure that there was no mention of what had happened. It was too early for that, the doctors told her, too soon for him to have to deal with the fallout, and she wondered if maybe the whole thing was a bad idea in the first place. But the first week that she brought him a thick stack of newspapers, he was so obviously happy that she couldn't help but smile too. The next week, Andy took her aside and told her that he'd read the entire stack over and over until the pages were no longer legible and his hands were black from newsprint.

The move seemed to have done him good. He was definitely changing, starting to come out of whatever had had him in its grip. It was going to take a long time, she could tell, but it was happening. He still didn't talk much on his own, but then he never really had, except in his most unguarded moments. But he was doing more, interacting more, reacting to her more. That had to be good, right?

There was a look about him, though, that hadn't been there before. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something had changed. She never asked him about himself, though. Best not to pry. The week that the bandages came off of his wrist, the first thing that he did after she arrived was to hold out his hand for her inspection. So, she knew that if anything came up, he'd tell her.

Two weeks before today, though, something had felt different. Maybe it was the holiday season. She wasn't sure what, but there was something different about him…he seemed more energetic, more lively. She couldn't help noticing the extra spring in his step as he crossed the room to greet her. For Henry, that was almost…well, almost like bouncing.

Not that Henry will ever approach "bubbly" or "perky", God forbid. That would be scary.

"Hey," she said, as she hugged him.

"Hey," he replied as he hugged her back. It was their standard greeting now. He was still thin, but he was getting stronger, and he squeezed her as tightly as he could every time she arrived. That was fine with her. "How's it going?"

"OK. Been a quiet week. I think I need to get new tires for the car, though, with all the snow out there." She nodded at the window. "You think that looks bad, you should see Ashfield right now. Everything is white. Three-foot-high drifts in some places. Frank was out shoveling almost all day on Wednesday. Wouldn't let anybody help him, but he still grumbled about it the rest of the week. You know how he is."

He nodded. "Yeah. My first winter at the building, I offered to help him, but he said no. Said he didn't want me suing him if I threw my back out."

"Like you'd do something like that. He was probably kidding."

"Probably. Anyway, I got new tires for the truck last year…had an assignment up in the hills last February. Went to the place down the street."

"How were they?"

"They're good. Won't overcharge you, either. You should be OK there."

Eileen wasn't really thinking about tires much. She'd spent the last few weeks trying to figure out what to do for Henry for Christmas. What do you give the man who saved your life more times than you could count? There was so little that he needed these days…nothing that she could buy in a store, at any rate. And from what she'd seen in his apartment, things weren't important to him anyway. But even after all this time, she still had no idea what was. She'd worried and fretted for days.

Finally, she'd come up with an idea so obvious that she couldn't believe it had taken that long to figure it out. After calling the hospital to run it by the doctors, she'd swung into action. She'd had to borrow a few things and call in a couple of favors from her co-workers, but it had been surprisingly easy. And now, she just hoped that he would like it…

Henry was peering at her with curiosity.

"Be right back," she said.

"Are you OK?" he asked, but the door was already closing behind her as she headed to her car. When she and the nurses returned a few minutes later with pounds and pounds of crockpots and casserole dishes and salad bowls and the roast beef wrapped in yards of tinfoil because she didn't have anything big enough to put it in, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. The nurses grinned openly as they set up the small folding table they'd brought in for the occasion. She left them to it and went back for the rest.

"When the girls at work found out what I was doing, they all insisted on helping," she explained to Andy as she lifted the last casserole dish from the trunk of her car. "Everybody brought something to work yesterday. I tried to tell them that there's no way that we could eat all of this, but that didn't stop them. Will you join us? We could use the help."

"No, not this time. This is just for the two of you," Andy said, taking the dish from her. "Have fun. He's going to love it."

"I hope so."

Andy smiled. "He will. This has got to be the nicest thing that anybody's done for him in a long, long time. It should just be you two."

"OK. But you're getting leftovers."

"Now that I think we can handle," he replied.

The procession attracted so much attention that nearly everyone who worked in the hospital ended up in Henry's room at some point, helping out and chatting. Henry himself retreated from the commotion and ended up sitting on his bed in his robe with his knees pulled up to his chest, watching the whole production from afar. Finally, when everything was ready, Andy shooed everybody out and closed the door firmly on his way out. The two of them sat down to plates piled high with beef and potatoes and green beans and all of the holiday dishes she'd been able to think of.

As Henry settled into his chair, Eileen raised her glass of wine. He did the same.

"A toast?" she asked. "Your call."

"To you, for bringing…all of this." He shook his head. "I've never seen so much food in one place, Eileen. Thanks."

"My pleasure. And everybody at work says hi."

"Thank them for me."

"I will."

Henry fell silent. For a few seconds, she waited as he surveyed his plate.

"What is it?" she asked gently.

"I can't remember the last time I ate this well."

She smiled at him. "Neither can I. But I think it's about time we did." God knows you need it, still.

"I have something for you," he said abruptly. "A surprise."

She looked at him. He didn't seem upset…if anything, he was anxious. His glass of wine was still up, but he was staring at the plate of food as if he'd never seen it before.

Now that's something I've never seen before…a nervous Henry.

"I don't know if you're going to like it. I hope that you will." His voice was small.

She put down her glass, reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Of course I will, Henry. You've never let me down before."

He raised his head and smiled back. There was something familiar in his eyes, but she couldn't put a word to it.

"They say that I can go home around New Year's, or sometime after that. Guess I'm ready for the real world again. Kind of."

Eileen sat still for a moment, stunned, then she jumped to her feet. As Henry stared at her in surprise, she ran around the table and hugged him tightly from behind.

"Oh, that's great news! Henry, I'm so happy for you!"

She felt him tense in surprise, then his shoulders relaxed.

"I…I hope that's OK," he said.

Eileen squeezed harder. "Of course it is! Why wouldn't it be? It's wonderful news!"

He said nothing, but put his hand over hers. Eileen closed her eyes in happiness.

He's…he's going to be OK. Really OK, or they wouldn't be letting him out. This is the best Christmas present I've had in a long, long time…maybe ever.

After a while, her stomach rumbled. Henry laughed. "I'm supposed to be the hungry one here," he said. "We'd better eat this before it all gets cold."

She sat back down in her chair, and lifted her glass again. "If that isn't worth a toast, I don't know what is."

Glasses clinked.

"Happy holidays, Henry."

"Very happy. Thank you."

Maybe it was the cold of the day, or maybe it was the joy that lifted their spirits and the prospect of something to look forward to, but everything tasted wonderful. The roast had come out perfectly, the rest of the food had stayed warm somehow, and Sandy's famous double-chocolate cake was better than ever before. They both managed to put away more food than Eileen had thought possible.

By the time that Andy came back to help clean up, she was nearly comatose, and Henry was stifling yawns every few minutes. Later that afternoon, as they were lazing about watching old movies on TV, she fell into a doze on the spare bed.

"Miss Galvin?"

She opened her eyes to see Andy standing over her, smiling. The shadows in the room were longer than she remembered, and she realized why he'd woken her.

"Eileen," she said.

"It's time," he whispered. "You OK to drive?"

"Yeah."

She would have been perfectly happy sleeping there all night, but she knew she had to go. Eileen turned her head and saw Henry stretched out on his bed, fingers laced together over his slightly distended stomach, fast asleep.

"Just a minute, Andy?"

She lifted herself up slowly, crossed the room and sat down in the chair by his bed, and watched him for a little while. His brow was unfurrowed, and the muscles of his face were completely slack. He looked ten years younger, almost like a teenager.

She took the blanket from the spare bed she'd been sleeping on, unfolded it and spread it over him, and brushed back the hair from his forehead.

Sleep well.

It wasn't until she was warming up her car in the parking lot that she caught sight of her own face in the side mirror and realized that she was grinning like an idiot.