They were getting along just fine, but it all felt so tremulous, so fragile. It would take one wrong word, one wrong motion, and it could all go badly. They trod carefully, talking of not much important and engaging the little girls as distraction. When Shane was finished eating, he nudged away his plate and settled into his seat.

“Don’t go back to the pub,” Colleen said. “Let’s all stay here.”

Hallie raised her fork in the air. “You used to say that all the time when we were kids, trying to keep Dad from going to work. ‘Let’s all just stay here for this one night.’”

“But this time I mean it.” Colleen stood and began to clear the table; she piled dishes one on top of the other, held two glasses loosely between her fingers. “Even though I know the answer is always the same.” Colleen set the plates in the sink, but her fingers slipped and the water glasses fell, hitting the porcelain farm sink and shattering with a startling sound. For a slice of a second she was back in the church alcove, the bottle hitting stone. She jumped back and grimaced, staring at the shards of glass sprayed across the counter and floor.

“It’s not a party until Lena breaks something,” Hallie said with a laugh.

“Speaking of parties, I heard a joke today,” Dad said.

“No!” all three siblings stated in unison.

“Yes, yes,” the nieces cried.

Colleen wiped glass from the sink and counter with a paper towel and tossed it in the trash before heading to the broom closet.

Their dad was the worst joke teller in the world; they all knew it. He missed punch lines. He left out the important parts. He tried again and again and the family had come to both love and dread the jokes he brought to the table.

“Tell me!” Rosie cried out, standing on her chair and raising her own magic wand, similar to the one she’d made for Colleen but with more sparkles, if that was possible.

“Why did the physics teacher break up with the biology teacher?” Gavin paused and smiled in anticipation. When it was silent, he blurted out, “Because there was no chemistry.”

All of them laughed, partly in relief; he’d actually told the joke correctly.

Shane stood and held the dustpan for Colleen as she swept the glass shards into its basin. “It’s fiddle night, and we need to get back. I left Hank in charge and that’s only good for a couple hours, and then it’s like leaving the pub in the hands of a friendly golden retriever.”

“I’m coming tonight.” Colleen tossed the fragments into the trash can. “I’ll finish these dishes later. I want to be with you guys, not here by myself while the house makes noises in the dark.”