Landry nods, and though she’s frowning, trying to appear irritated, the look in her eyes is pure relief. I think she’s done with secrets for a while. For a long, long time, I hope.

“Because like it or not,” Mom continues, blinking back the sudden shine in her eyes, “you’re still a child.”

God, please let her have some childhood left.

The front door opens, letting in another cold gust, and Penn appears in the kitchen. “Hot chocolate and pork dumplings?” he says, eyeing our mugs and the pot on the stove. He frowns as he sets the takeout bag on the island. “That’s weird.”

“What says our resident culinary expert?” I arch one brow in Landry’s direction.

She grins. “I’ll allow it.”

I take the steam-damp bag and set a series of takeout boxes on the coffee table, where multicolored lights reflect on it as the Christmas tree blinks. Mom grabs four plastic cups and a two-liter bottle of Coke from the fridge, while Penn turns on How the Grinch Stole Christmas in the living room.

We gather around the coffee table, Penn in the armchair, the rest of us on the couch, and reach over one another to grab egg rolls, wontons, and dumplings from open containers. We don’t talk. No one’s really smiling. But we’re together, and the food is good.

Tomorrow’s going to be hard, because Dad isn’t here. Because we’re not the same family we were when he was alive. Before he got sick. Because in some ways, we hardly even know each other anymore.

But I don’t think it’s too late for us, just yet.

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

The sun beats down on my scalp, and I wipe sweat from my forehead. July in Tennessee feels like breathing through a warm, wet rag.

“Did you put those there?” I nod at the fresh flowers in the marble vase built into the base of Lullaby Doe’s headstone. It’s beautiful, especially now that the grass has filled in around it.

Landry shakes her head as she bends to add her own pink rose to the arrangement. “People keep leaving them. I thought they would forget, but someone keeps visiting.”

And as nice as it is for Lullaby that the community hasn’t forgotten her, it’s even better for my sister. Because if there are other regular visitors, she won’t look suspicious coming here on occasion.

It took nearly a month to get her here. Her therapist kept encouraging gently, but ultimately, it had to be Landry’s decision. That first time, back in January, she cried for a solid half hour.