And Bradley and Tori had come to depend on Julia as well as on each other. They benefited from her experience, her perspective, her wisdom, and (as Tori mentioned whenever she was given the opportunity) her cooking.

“I make boxed mac and cheese and off-brand tater tots,” Tori had said. “Bradley eats eggs for every meal except breakfast, and then he eats dry cereal. Julia’s like a superhero.”

Now, when they went to the house Ash had grown up in, it was a joyous affair, full of fun and warmth and family.

Truman had assumed the line between Ash’s eyebrows was a wrinkle because it had always been there. But sometime in April, he’d looked over to find that it had disappeared. Now and then, it made an appearance when he was stressed about Thorn or his mom had a bad night. But most days, his brow was clear.

“Happy birthday, sweetie!” Julia said when she saw Ash and wrapped him in a hug. Bradley slid the spatula out of her hand before she got pancake batter in Ash’s hair and gave Ash a nod.

Bradley didn’t talk much, but he was incredibly kind and he adored Julia.

Over blueberry pancakes (Ash’s favorite), bacon, and coffee, Julia told them stories of some of Ash’s more memorable birthdays.

“There was the time I had to work on his seventh birthday so we decided we’d celebrate on Saturday, not realizing it was the Fourth of July. We turned onto Main Street, and Ash’s eyes got huge. The whole street was decorated with balloons and streamers and those round ribbon things. He thought it was all for his birthday!”

Ash smiled and shook his head at his younger self.

“Everyone was wishing us happy Fourth of July, and Ash just kept saying thank you.”

“I wondered why there was this uncle named Sam I’d never heard of who cared so much about me having a good birthday,” Ash said, grinning.

“Oh man,” Tori said, “that reminds me of the birthday when I thought my parents had gotten a clown for my party. I really hated clowns as a kid, so when I saw this lady coming toward us in the backyard at my party, I started backing away and saying to my parents, ‘No clown, no clown!’ Turns out it was one of the kids’ grandma, she just had a really bad orange perm, and her lipstick was kind of smeared on.”

Bradley snorted into his coffee. “I wanted a beetle cake for my birthday when I was ten,” he said.

Before Truman could ask why on earth anyone would want to consume something that looked like a bug, he went on.

“My parents got me one in the shape of the Volkswagen instead.”