“Guess I better get shopping.” Colleen eased the bucket from Rosie’s lap, took a handful for herself and handed the bucket to Sadie for sharing.

The lights dimmed and Colleen settled back into her seat, ready to escape her swirling thoughts. She’d been thinking of her mother who wasn’t her mother, at least not by blood. Of her birth mother, gone before they even met. Of her dad loving someone else and losing her and still—and still!—living a life of beauty and kindness. And of her mother forgiving the betrayal. This right here had been why Dad had spoken of his understanding of betrayal, of the need to forgive. If Mother hadn’t forgiven, if she had held and remembered in bitterness, their family would not exist. It was all too much to absorb or understand completely and immediately. This family. Colleen reached over and took the hand of each of her nieces, gave them a squeeze.

And Dad, too, had been able, somehow able, to love again. He’d had every reason in the world to shut down, to hide under some thatched roof in Ireland, bitter and full of whiskey, isolated from his family and those who loved him. But he hadn’t. He’d said this to Colleen: “It was for you I was able to come back. For you I was able to keep my heart open to whatever might wait for me here. It was for you . . .”

For her. For Colleen Marie Donohue.

She wanted to take this knowledge and apply it like a salve to the past, to heal it and change it.

“Aunt Lena,” Rosie whispered close to Colleen’s ear.

“Yes?” Colleen shook herself free of her thoughts and looked at the screen. She’d been watching, but she hadn’t seen a thing. It was still the previews.

“I have to go pee-pee.”

“Okay, sweetie, let’s go.” Colleen took the little girl’s hand. “You, too, Sadie.”

Sadie popped up, the bucket of popcorn tumbling to the ground, yellow puffs scattering across the sticky floor to the row in front of them.

“I’m sorry!” Sadie dropped to her seat and bowed her head.

“What?” Colleen looked at Rosie. “It’s just popcorn. No big deal.” Smiling, Colleen stomped on a few kernels to make her point.

And then, as if someone had pushed a pause button, both girls looked at Colleen in relief.