My father, my hero, would rather minister to wounded warriors than deal with his own family.

He’d always seemed so wise and impartial, presiding with loving fairness above the girl drama the rest of us lived in, Beth crying in her room, Amy shouting down the stairs, Meg fretting over her hair or her shoes. I’d wanted to be like him. I was too impulsive. Too hotheaded.

“Passionate,” Eric said.

My throat was tight. My father wasn’t impartial. He just didn’t feel anymore.

I went into the bathroom to cool my hot cheeks. The mirror above the sink gave back the same reflection it had in high school: the same thin face, the same familiar scowl, even the same hair. My father’s hair. “For someone who has pushed away any intimacy in her own life . . .”

No more.

I was in the bathroom a long time. When I came out, my parents’ door was still shut. I climbed the stairs to the attic.

The browser was open to my blog. My cursor hovered over the link. Clicked.

To: [email protected]

Sorry I missed you. I miss you. Thank you.

I gnawed my lip over the closing. Sincerely? Always? Love?

Merry Christmas, I typed at last and hit SEND.

CHAPTER 24

Meg

Go potty,” I said to Lady, the way I did to the twins a dozen times a day.

The dog stopped rambling around the yard long enough to give me a patient look.

“Is that some kind of special dog command?” Amy asked.

“No idea,” I confessed. “This is all new to me. I’ve never had a dog before.”

“I always wanted a puppy. A little one I could carry around in my bag. Like Kylie Jenner.”

“Or Aunt Phee.”

Amy laughed. “I can’t believe she brought her dog to Christmas dinner.”

Yesterday, after Jo and Dad turned down my invitation, I’d steeled myself to call Aunt Phee. Our great-aunt had arrived on our doorstep at precisely five o’clock, bringing her dog, a box of pralines for me, and board books for the children. Despite her Yorkie’s determination to show the much bigger Lady who was boss, the evening had been surprisingly pleasant.

“It wasn’t so bad,” I said. “At least she was polite to John.”

“She also said nice things about the turkey.”

I bit back a grin. Lady sniffed at the muddy ground. “Potty,” I repeated.

Miraculously, the dog squatted.

“She peed, Mommy!” Daisy said, clapping her hands.

“Good dog.”

“I pee, too,” DJ said, and, yep, there was a dark, spreading stain on the front of his overalls.

“Okay,” I said. “That’s okay. Let’s go inside and get everybody cleaned up.”

Daisy scowled. “No.”

The twins were tired of rain, bored with playing inside.

“You go,” Amy said. “I can watch Daisy.”

“Lady, too!”

At the sound of her name, the dog waved her plumy tail uncertainly back and forth.

“And Lady.” Amy smiled. “Don’t worry.”

It was so nice to have her here, I thought as I took DJ inside. My own sister in my own house for Christmas dinner.