The morning after his return, Karak gave him a ride to the Moriyamas’ house in the Model T, arranging to pick him up in an hour. After he drove off, Amarjeet stood quietly in the front yard. His courage seemed to have deserted him. Nothing had changed since he had left. This was the same dirt road. Along the path to the barn were the same sakura trees that Harry’s sisters had planted years ago. In the corner stood the bamboo garden, taller and more regal. But a heavy silence hung about the home.

At the door, he felt the heaviness of his guilt. How could the Moriyamas forgive him for coming home without their son? Mr. Moriyama appeared at the screen door and peered at him. His face was a stone.

Mr. Moriyama called out a commanding stream of Japanese and Harry’s sisters came rushing to the front step. Amarjeet was surprised to see them. He bowed and greeted them by name—Masa, Yuki. As girls they had been shy, though they were older than Harry. Both of them had been born in Japan, years before the family had arrived in California. Their father had not wanted them to mix too much with the non-Japanese boys, and as a show of respect, Amarjeet had kept his distance. Years ago they had both married truck farmers and moved away, one to Bakersfield, another to Texas.

Masa stepped forward, returning his bow. “Welcome, Amarjeet-san.”

“Okay,” her father said, after a moment, backing away from the door and allowing him room to pass.

Amarjeet entered and took off his shoes. He was startled to find Mrs. Moriyama standing just inside, wearing a gray housecoat over her petite frame, as ephemeral as a shadow.

She was broken now. Fragile. Grief changes the body, he thought; bones shrink, muscles are rearranged.

“I have come to give you something,” Amarjeet said. The older sister interpreted for him, even though Mrs. Moriyama had understood, was already nodding. He hesitated. “Something from Haruo.”

Mr. Moriyama’s eyes darted from Amarjeet’s face to the ground and back again. “Come.” He nodded. “Sit down.”

The room was swept and neat, immaculate as it always was. Books on shelves guarded by glass panes. Porcelain teacups on a decorative tray. Harry and he had done homework together in this room. He felt that he had misspoken, that he was ill-mannered. He should not have come only to give them something. He should have come to share their grief, to offer condolences, to do something. To do whatever is done.