Hanging back a little, Zack watched Rachel embrace her sister. Natasha was slighter, more delicately built, with rich brown eyes misted with tears, and tumbled raven curls raining down her back. Zack’s first thought was that this could not be the mother of three Rachel had described to him. Then a young boy of six or seven squeezed between the women and demanded attention.

“You let in the cold!” This was bellowed from inside the house in a rumbling male voice that carried to the sidewalk and beyond. “You are not born in barn.”

“Yes, Papa.” Her voice sounded meek enough, but Rachel winked at her nephew as she lifted him up for a kiss. “My sister, Natasha,” she continued, as they stood in the open doorway. “And my boyfriend, Brandon. And,” she said when a toddler wandered up to hang on Natasha’s legs, “Katie.”

“You pick me up,” Katie demanded, homing in on Nick. “Okay?” She was already holding up her arms, smiling flirtatiously. Nick cleared his throat and glanced at Rachel for help. When he only got a smile and a shrug, he bent down awkwardly.

“Sure. I guess.”

An expert at such matters, Katie settled herself on his hip and wound an arm around his neck.

“She enjoys men,” Natasha explained. When her father bellowed again, she rolled her eyes. “Come inside, please.”

Zack was struck by the sounds and the scents. Home, he realized. This was a home. And stepping inside made him realize he’d never really had one himself.

The scents of ham and cloves and furniture polish, the clash of mixed voices. The carpet on the stairway leading to the second floor was worn at the edges, testimony to the dozens of feet that had climbed up or down. The furniture in the cramped living room was faded with sun and time, crowded now with people. A gleaming piano stood against one wall. Atop it was a bronze sculpture. He recognized the faces of Rachel’s family, melded together, cheek to cheek, flanked by two older, proud faces that could only be her parents’.

He didn’t know much about art, but he understood that this represented a unity that could not be broken.

“So you bring your friends, then leave them in the cold.” Yuri sat in an armchair, cuddling a sprite of a girl. His big workingman’s arms nearly enveloped the pretty child, who had a fairy’s blond hair and curious eyes.

“It’s only a little cold.” Rachel bent to kiss her father, then the girl. “Freddie, you get prettier every time I see you.”

Freddie smiled and tried to pretend she wasn’t staring at the young blond man who was holding her little sister. But she had just turned thirteen, and whole worlds were opening up to her.

Rachel went through another round of introductions. Freddie turned the name Nick LeBeck over in her head while Yuri shouted out orders.