“Darling,” Mom says, leaning forward and grasping Karina’s hand in both of her own. “You love your friends, yes?”

Karina nods back. She digs the fingernails of her free hand into her thigh, but the sharp pain cannot distract her.

“And aren’t you worried about what might happen to them there?”

Karina hears the crack of August’s head against the stable wall and sees his lifeless body. Tears begin to drip down her face, and she wipes at them with her sleeve.

Mom leans closer, steel in her eyes. “I know you couldn’t save August,” she says, “but you can save your friends now.”

Karina feels Mom’s strength electrifying the air between them. Dad’s eyes are glistening as he nods silently across the table. She thinks of what can’t be undone and tries to summon the courage to do what she knows she must. When she finally finds the voice to speak, it is barely above a whisper. “I can save them now.”

49 | The Olanders

May 2016

Jaya brushes the hair out of her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. She and Karina are planting the two new raised beds Keith installed in the backyard. They had to tear out some grass to make space for these—some of the new turf they installed years ago, in fact, where the swimming pool used to be. Karina came up with the idea of intermingling flowers, herbs, vegetables and berry bushes all together in these beds, a more naturalistic design that should increase yields. Jaya has not gardened in years, having relinquished the planting to the weekly landscaper. When she did garden, she arranged all her plants in separate, tidy rows. She’s never seen the type of garden Karina has designed, but she is excited about its potential. The lady at the nursery agreed the diversity of pollen would attract lots of honeybees and butterflies.

A hummingbird vibrates close to Jaya and she watches it for a moment: its head improbably larger than its body, its wings buzzing so rapidly they are a blur. The bird migrates over to where Karina is tilling the new soil and mixing it with nutrients. Jaya watches her daughter stop and observe the miraculous creature for a long moment before she returns to her task. Every morning, Karina comes out here on her own. Jaya often finds her meditating on the wooden bench they installed. She sometimes joins Karina, silently reciting her prayers or simply recounting her gratitude for having her daughter home safe. Then they get to work, sometimes on the same tasks, other times near each other but separate.

Jaya has been relearning what it is to be a parent this past year. When her children were younger, it was about the basic tasks: feeding them, clothing them, ensuring they had a good education and dental checkups. Keeping them safe from harm. When she couldn’t ensure that most elemental duty with Prem, the rest of it tumbled down like a sandcastle. Jaya’s subsequent search for inner peace felt essential to her survival at the time, but she now realizes it came at a price. She did not teach her daughter how to develop confidence, rather than insecurity, in what makes her unique. Show her how to fortify her heart against life’s inevitable disappointments and betrayals. Help her cultivate an instinct for people. Jaya could blame herself indefinitely for these failings, but it wouldn’t remedy anything now.