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When Kennet stepped off the train at Clayton and a long-legged creature hurled into his arms like a bazooka shell, it took a few shocked seconds to realize it was Little. This baby brother, always full of surprises, had beaten everyone to the punch and now he was wound like a vine around Kennet, who nearly staggered from the unexpected reception.

“Hey,” he said, laughing as he regained balance. “Hey, kiddo. Look at you.”

Little didn’t speak, didn’t cry, didn’t make a noise. He just clung.

“Hey, bud,” Kennet said over and over, a hand at the back of Little’s head. “How’s my buddy? Goddamn, you got so tall on me. You grew a yard. Who gave you permission?”

Over Little’s shoulder he could see Marta and Emil wiping their eyes, Trudy and Kirsten chomping at the bit, and standing apart, Major and Johnny. Older and greyer, but all smiles.

But no Minor.

Little let go and Trudy and Kirsten, with those impossibly thick braids of hair, were in Kennet’s hungry arms, kissing his face, squeezing him and crying on his collar.

“Cripes, I got lipstick on your uniform,” Kirsten said.

Lipstick?

Trudy kissed him, then wound arms around his neck again. Kennet picked her up in a twirling hug, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. And something about his little sister was suspiciously different…

Holy shit, she has boobs.

The girls finally let go, and Emil handed his cane to Marta and opened his arms.

“Gullgosse.” His broad palms rubbed and patted Kennet’s back. “Min älskade gullgosse.”

“So good,” Kennet said against his neck. “So good to be home.”

Marta flung plump arms around him and kissed him silly. Major, in one of his rare, speechless moments, held Kennet tight a long time. Johnny offered a slightly bashful handshake, which Kennet batted aside for another hug instead.

“So good to be home,” he said, right and left, to everyone and anyone. And then…

There. Standing in the shadows, his sailor hat cocked back on his blond head.

Oh, Minor mine, you are so fine.

“Jesus Christ,” Minor said as Kennet lunged at him, grabbing, trying to be careful but unable to keep his embrace on a leash. Minor’s hat fell off as a little grunt of pure relief squeezed out of his chest.

“You made it,” he said.

“I made it.”

Minor couldn’t hug with both arms. The wounded one stayed at his side while the other clamped around his brother’s shoulders like a trap.

“You son of a bitch,” he said thickly.

“Don’t talk about Ma that way.” Kennet hugged and hugged, lifting Minor clear off his feet. It was easier than picking up Trudy. Minor was alarmingly thin. Whittled down to ropy muscle and bone. His complexion a little sallow and the blue of his eyes diminished. But it was Minor and he was alive.