The fiddle case was all the way at the back of the hall closet, behind a pile of suitcases and winter boots. Digging it out, Marisa dislodged a box of mittens from the overhead shelf, bumped her head trying to avoid it. But finally she held the case in her hands, dusting the pebbled leather off with a red and white mitten.

Her hands were shaking slightly. Unlatching the top, she opened it up, looked in at her instrument. She'd had it a long time, and there were scratches to prove it. The fine, varnished cherrywood was nicked in places, and there was a small chip halfway up the neck. Lifting it out, Marisa rubbed the surface with her palm.

Oh, it felt so beautiful. She plucked the strings, began to tune by ear.

She had started missing her violin yesterday, when the woman in the shop had let her look at her guitar. All summer she had been fighting the urge, especially with Jessica asking her if the music had left. . . .

Living with Ted, Marisa had stopped playing. Not all at once. At first he had pretended to like hearing her, and he'd request specific songs when she'd practice. After a while, the opposite would happen; she would start playing, and he would tell her he needed to concentrate, or he had a headache, or he couldn't think through the music. Once he had said “through the noise,” and that had shut her down.

Her love for fiddle music went back a long way before that, before him. She had started playing in fourth grade. She loved the tension of the strings under her fingers, teasing music out of them with the bow. Running through scales, she went straight into “O'er the Hills”—her and Sam's signature song.

Playing it pulled tears straight into her eyes. There had been so many hurt feelings between them these last few years. The thing about a breach between two people who loved each other was that the longer it went on, the harder it was to go back and undo it.

The music came back now. So easily, it was as if she'd never stopped. She played her childhood songs, the ones she and Sam had learned together when they were in fourth and third grades, respectively—“Mary Had a Little Lamb,” “London Bridge Is Falling Down,” “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” “Row Row Row Your Boat.” She could almost believe Sam was with her now, urging her on.