So he tried to show her.

“I have flowers,” he said. “Flowers for you.” He held them out to her. Even in his room, away from the sun, they were stunningly white.

His mother took the flowers, and for a long time, she held them, cradled them. Then she brought them to her face and inhaled deeply. The petals brushed her cheeks. Wunder could see their light reflected in her eyes.

“These are beautiful, Wunder,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like them. Where did you get them?”

Here was another question that he knew would take a long time to answer.

“I was in the dark too,” he finally replied. “But I found the brightness.”

His mother started to cry again. “My miracle,” she said. “My Wunder.”

Then she opened her flower-filled arms, and Wunder fell into them. She ran her hands over his hair and his back, like she used to, and Wunder didn’t try to stop her.

Until they heard a noise that made both of them turn.

Wunder’s father was in the doorway.

“I’ve been out all night with the police,” he said. “We were just at the cemetery. The people there—all those people—they told me Wunder was here. And I saw—I brought this.” He held up a white flower. He looked very confused and very alone.

Wunder’s mother didn’t answer. But she pulled Wunder to her again with one arm and held out the other arm. Wunder’s father stumbled over and sank to his knees.

And then Wunder felt both of his parents there, both of his parents with their arms around him. He felt how much they loved him with a great, imperfect love, a love that connected them, a love that would never end. And he didn’t have to say anything at all.

The heart-bird circled slowly and softly inside him. The white flowers shone with their own light. And Wunder and his mother and his father sat on the floor with the pieces of the crib scattered around them.

They sat on the floor and they held one another and they cried.

Chapter 48

The sun had begun to set when he left the house. The roads were dry, as if the rainfall of the last night hadn’t happened. The path in the woods was littered with leaves and vines, but everything was quiet, peaceful. The live oak seemed unchanged, green and alive and wrapped in the embrace of the resurrection fern.

He had been talking with his parents for hours, telling them what he was ready to tell and listening to what they were ready to say. His father had promised to come home on time from now on and had suggested they go on a road trip to visit family during Christmas vacation. Wunder’s mother had brought up her transition back to work and had agreed to go to Mariah Lazar’s grief group with Wunder’s father.

Then they had decided that it was time to go, as a family, to the cemetery.