Within two minutes, a bright, steady fire was burning in the old hearth. The yellow light danced across the ancient limestone walls and warmed the corner. "The chimney works perfectly," Marcus said, sitting down by the fire. "The mason who built this knew how to curve the back wall." Elena sat down beside him and set the small moka pot on two flat stones near the coals. Soon, the smell of dark roasting coffee mixed with the scent of burning chestnut wood. She poured the hot black coffee into their two ceramic mugs. There was no sugar and no milk, but the coffee was hot and rich. They held the warm mugs between their hands and drank in small sips. The fire warmed their faces while the night air cooled the open space above them. "What time did the markets close today?" Elena asked quietly. She was looking at the dancing flames on the stone hearth. "Four hours a

The fire died down to a bed of glowing red embers. Marcus woke in the middle of the night because the air had turned cold. The mountain chill had come down from the high limestone ridges, slipping through the open roof and settling over the terracotta floor.He reached out his hand. The cast-iron plate behind the hearth was still warm. It gave off a steady, gentle heat that kept the corner of the room comfortable. Beside him, Elena was sleeping on her side, wrapped tightly in two heavy wool blankets. Her breathing was deep and even. For the first time since they had fled Germany, she was not twitching in her sleep. Her hands were curled loose against her chest.Marcus pulled his blanket up over his shoulders. He listened to the night. There was no sound of distant traffic, no hum of air conditioning, and no whine of jet engines in the high sky. There was only the dry wind moving through the pine needles and the call of a barn owl down in the ravine. He stared up at the black sky throu

From far down the mountain, muffled by the thick pine trees, came the deep, grinding whine of a heavy diesel truck in low gear. The sound grew louder, punctuated by the sharp hiss of pneumatic air brakes as the driver took the lower hairpin turn. Marcus climbed down the ladder. He walked to the edge of the terrace and stood beside Elena. A few minutes later, the massive green truck crested the final rise of the dirt track. It moved slowly, rocking from side to side like a ship in rough water. Its massive knobby tires churned through the loose limestone gravel. Behind it, the long flatbed trailer trailed along, carrying the stacks of clay tiles tied down with wide blue ratchet straps. On the bed of the truck lay the sixty chestnut rafters, their pale, freshly sawn ends glowing white in the sun, and the four massive Douglas fir purlins. The driver stopped the truck in the center of the wide clearing un

Marcus woke before the sun. The room was dark, but the iron fireback still gave off a low, gentle heat. Through the open roof, the silver band of stars was fading into a cool gray mist.Beside him, Elena was sleeping on her side. Her breathing was deep and even. In the safe houses, she had slept like a dog in an alley, twitching at every noise in the street. Here, her hands were relaxed and open on the wool blanket.Marcus slid out from under the blanket without making a sound. The terracotta floor was cold against his bare feet. He pulled on his heavy canvas trousers, his wool socks, and his leather boots. He did not lace the boots to the top. He walked quietly across the room to the hearth.A few red embers still glowed under the gray ash. Marcus picked up the iron poker and pulled the red coals together into a small mound. He took a handful of dry pine shavings from the wood box and dropped them on top. He knelt down and blew softly into the ash.The shavings smoked for a second, t

Marcus dropped the hammer and the chisel onto the scaffold planks. He seized the pine log with both hands, threw his weight against it, and shoved it sideways. The timber slipped past the cut stone. It dropped into the bottom of the pocket with a solid, final CRACK that shook the entire wall. The derrick relaxed. The tension left the rope. Elena let the rope fall from her hands. She slumped back against the oak post, letting her head drop back. She was breathing hard, her shoulders trembling with fatigue. Marcus stood on the scaffold, looking down at the timber. It sat three inches deep in the granite bed, seated as firm as if it had grown there. He let out a long breath through his nose. He picked up his hammer and chisel and slid them back into his belt. "Good pull," he said down to her. She looked up at him through her messy hair. A sl