“The fire hit us hard,” Blythe explained. “It changed us, changed everything. It was a dark time for both of us, but for Hank most of all. I think we both knew there was no going back after that. We tried, but it didn't work. No need to dig up everything that happened. Some wounds never heal, I guess, but you do learn to live with them. We've always been there for each other. A shoulder to cry on, a friendly voice over the telephone. I helped him learn Braille when he was being stubborn. He gave me good advice when I wanted to quit teaching and become a park ranger in the Yukon.”

“That would have been the coolest career switch ever.” Andy Foley, future career guidance counsellor. For morons.

“No comment,” she replied sarcastically.

“But Blythe's been good to me in all sorts of ways she probably hasn't told you about,” added Hank. “A few she didn't even tell me about. I had to find out for myself. Like when she paid off some of my debts on the farm. A blind farmer isn’t exactly going to reap his quota, is he? And when she hired Steph, who's an absolute top dollar home care assistant from Halifax. I'd have been a goner years ago without Steph looking out for me. So, you see what a sweetheart your mother can be...when she gives that encyclopedia brain of hers a rest.”

“Hey. I taught history. What do you want? Twitter?”

He snorted a laugh. “It's good to see you. Even though I can't, you know...” his face dropped to his lap.

Blythe leaned over and held his chin up with a gentle cup of her hand. “It's good to see you too, Mop-head.” She then ran a hand though the impressive silver, curly, mop of hair on his head. It was past shoulder length, big in every sense. But Rose had to admit it suited him. Now that the color had partially returned to his face, she couldn't imagine him any other way. He'd probably always been a character, which would explain why her mom had been drawn to him. She was one herself, the brightest and the best Rose had ever known. And she got why these two had remained so close despite everything that had transpired to keep them apart.

They were both comfortable in their own skin. They had the same sense of humor. They were both eccentrics in an increasingly concentric world.

Rose decided she liked this Hank Bonden.

But while she'd focused her attention on them, she'd completely forgotten about Bellamy. He hadn't made a sound since entering, and she wondered what he thought of all this, about Blythe's secret life. How much of this had she told him, her professional assistant, confidante, her unaccountably gorgeous accountant?

But, when she looked round, he was gone.

***