“Have you been everywhere?” Sam says, and she smiles. I get what he means. There are African masks on the wall by the door, and some Tibetan prayer flags in another corner, and it seems like a hundred other things.

“Sometimes it feels that way.” Lorna gestures at the couch. “Want to take a seat? I’ll get us some drinks.”

We sit, and I have the odd feeling of being in a doctor’s office or something, the way the three of us are all lined up here on the sofa, waiting.

“Here, let me take that,” Abigail says as Lorna emerges from the kitchen with a tray, and I’m reminded of the fact that Lorna is a lot sicker than she looks. She’s thin, certainly—too thin—but there’s a sort of glamor to it, what with her high cheekbones and her swept-up hair, and I had forgotten for a moment how beneath all that is a person who is not at all well.

“Thank you, Abigail.”

It’s odd hearing my sister’s name on her tongue. Knowing that in some alternate universe, she’d have called that name a million times over the past thirty-odd years. That it would be the most beloved, most familiar series of syllables in the world. But not in this universe.

Lorna folds herself into a large armchair and smiles at me. Looking at her now I start to notice how young she really is—just about twenty years older than me.

“So,” she turns. “I suppose this all feels very startling to you, Sam.”

He glances quickly at Abigail and then at me.

“It’s pretty weird,” he agrees. “I mean, it’s good that Mom found you and everything, but…” he shrugs. “It feels weird about Grandma. And Grandpa too, I guess.” He glances my way too, including me in his mental list of relatives that aren’t exactly who he thought they were. Lorna’s eyes flick towards me, following his. I wonder if I remind her of Mom—and if so, what that feels like. She turns back to Sam.

“Yes: your grandma and I…and your grandpa…we probably should all have handled things differently. You’re right. But you know, we lived in a very different time.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment, his eyes traveling around the room.

“Lorna’s been to so many countries, Sam,” my sister says. “I’ve been hearing all her stories over the past few days.”

Lorna glances at her, a warm look.

“Yes—we had so very much to catch up on.” She clears her throat. “And it’s true, Sam, I was a bit of a nomad, particularly in my younger days.”