Rae couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her own parents holding hands. Had they ever? Yes, she recalled the two of them holding hands while walking to mass on Sunday mornings and on walks around the neighborhood and during Friday-night movies at home, draped all over each other like teenagers. These memories awoke a painfully sweet nostalgia in Rae, as though her whole body had been bathed in gentle light. She knew her parents still loved each other, surely they must, but they never touched anymore, and it hurt her to recall a time when they did. Not that she had ever liked that—in fact, back when they used to kiss on the lips, Rae would cover her eyes and beg them to stop. But the distant memory of those times, the knowledge that that warmth was once present between them and now was not, sent a powerful rush of sadness through Rae. It was surprising to feel something so intensely that for once did not directly involve her. It did involve her, though, she thought with sudden indignation. It wasn’t fair for something to be ripped away before you had the chance to decide if you should cherish it. It wasn’t fair for the people you lived with every day to change.

“. . . Now, herons are typically monogamous for one breeding season,” Rae overheard Ryan saying to her mother.

“And how long is that?” Lisa chirped, like a total moron. “Their breeding season, I mean.”

“A year.”

Even I know that, Rae thought, her sadness turning to disgust. Why was her mom being so idiotic, and why was Ryan politely accepting it, patiently explaining things to Lisa as though she was fresh off a rocket ship from Mars?

Eventually, they reached the secluded lagoon, with a narrow wooden bridge overlooking it. They lined up shoulder to shoulder along the bridge to admire the scene. In the deep shade and dusky light, the water looked as black as ink. Lily pads decorated its surface, and bright orange flowers lined its perimeter.

Ryan was the first to spot the fawn. He inhaled sharply and whispered, “Nobody move . . . Look across the way.”

Everyone froze in place and looked to the far side of the lagoon, where a startlingly small and beautiful fawn was approaching the water’s edge. Its body was no bigger than a two-liter bottle, its arched back thickly spotted with bright white thumbprints. Its little face was so sweet it took your breath away, eyes black and large, white spots on the bridge of its nose and lining its upturned ears.

The fawn stepped cautiously toward the water’s edge on matchstick legs that seemed to bend wrong, ill suited to support even this tiny thing. The fawn nosed down to a pink bloom that rested on a lily pad. Would it eat the flower or simply smell it in appreciation? It was such an impossibly gorgeous moment, it seemed the world might end right there, in a dreamy poof of smoke.