“He has struggles. Pain sometimes. He has trouble putting his thoughts into words when he gets stressed, but he’s also the best guide on the river and the guests love him. He volunteers at the rehab center. And you’ve seen his paintings. It’s almost like God gave him that gift in compensation. His future isn’t like everyone else’s, maybe, not what you’d imagined when you were both eighteen.”

“I have my struggles, too,” Leni said quietly. “And we were kids then. We’re not now.”

Mr. Walker nodded. “There’s really only one question. Everything else will follow.” He turned to look at her. “Are you staying?”

She did her best to smile. She was pretty sure this was the question he’d come over to ask. As a parent herself, she understood. He didn’t want his son hurt again. “I have no idea what this new life of mine will look like, but I’m staying.”

He laid a hand on her shoulder.

Down on the beach, MJ leaped into the air. “I did it! I made the rock skip. Mommy, did you see that?”

Matthew looked back and gave Leni a crooked smile. He and his son looked so much alike, both of them smiling at her, standing together against the cornflower-blue sky. Peas in a pod. Two of a kind. The beginning of a whole new world of love.

*   *   *

ALTHOUGH SHE HAD THOUGHT about it often over the years, mythologized it almost, Leni realized that she had forgotten the true magic of a summer night when the darkness didn’t fall.

Now she was sitting at one of the picnic tables down on the Walker beach. A lingering scent of roasted marshmallows hung in the air, sweetened the briny tang of the sea washing ceaselessly back and forth. MJ stood at the shore, casting his line into the water, reeling it back in. Mr. Walker stood on one side of him, giving him tips, helping him when the line got tangled or when he snagged something. Alyeska was standing on his other side, casting a line of her own. Leni knew that MJ was going to fall asleep where he stood any minute.

As much as she loved sitting here, soaking in this new image of her life, she knew she was avoiding something that mattered. With each minute that passed, she felt the weight of her avoidance; like a hand on her shoulder, a gentle reminder.

She slid off the seat, got to her feet. She no longer knew how to judge time by the color of the sky—a brilliant amethyst, speckled with stars—so she looked at her watch: 9:25.

“Are you okay?” Matthew said. He held on to her hand until she pulled gently away, then he let go.

“I need to go see my old house.”