I’m so startled by her question that I don’t know what to say. I think back on that time, remembering each moment.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Every day.”

She nods, seeming lost in her own thoughts. “But you kept pushing?”

“We didn’t have a choice.”

She pauses for a moment, shifting so that she can see our reflections in the window, her head tilted to the side as if she’s trying to figure something out about me. Her eyes trace over my scars but I don’t feel judgment and pity—it’s more like a sculptor trying to fit the pieces of a puzzle together.

“You and Catcher?” she asks, one eyebrow raised suggestively.

I feel myself turn a bright red and she smiles, that being all the confirmation she needed. “I thought so. He’s a really good person.” She says it almost wistfully.

“I know.” I stare at the strips of fabric in my lap. All these different pieces of cloth ripped apart from clothes and blankets that became worn and useless but now have a new purpose. I run my hand over one of the uneven seams, feeling the bumps of stitches.

Broken things can be made whole again. Perhaps not as they were before, but maybe stronger this time.

“You asked me on the shore what I’d do if I had only a few days left?” I venture.

My sister nods and pours herbs into the hot water, suffusing the room with an earthy scent.

“I decided that I’d live,” I tell her. “I decided I’m tired of being scared and waiting for other people to make up their minds about what they want—I’m going after what I want.” I pull another pile of fabric toward me. “And what I want right now is off this stupid island.”

My sister laughs, bringing me a mug of tea. She curls back on her chair, legs tucked underneath her. “I want to build something,” she says, getting a faraway look in her eyes. “Recently I’ve had this idea of a village.” She sounds hesitant, as if waiting for me to make fun of her. But I hold myself still, barely breathing, wanting to hear more.

After a while she goes on. “There would be these beautiful buildings all connected with bridges—everything would be off the ground. It would be a part of nature—not trying to change it but to meld with it.” She smiles. “It would be safe. We wouldn’t ever have to worry again.”

It’s silent in the room when she’s done. Down the hall we hear Elias throw open the door, a clanking of metal as he drags in supplies for his steering contraption. My sister and I glance at each other, dreams of possibilities still floating in the air around us.