Rowan followed Finn’s gaze to the twisted pine. “Really? It looks half-dead.”

“Just try it.”

Juniper offered the spade to her older sister, who took it with a shrug. She stopped a few feet from the crooked tree and began to dig while the others watched. When the hole was deep enough, she gave a cursory glance over her shoulder, then stepped into the soil and slid into a trance.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. After five or so, Juniper started to squirm. “She’s been in there a long time.” While they debated whether to wake her, Rowan abruptly stumbled backward, nearly losing her balance. When she turned around, she appeared to be in shock. “What happened?” Juniper blurted.

Rowan gazed out at the pock-holed clearing, her words faltering. “She—she said I made a mess of the grass.” Her sisters gaped back at her, speechless, then Juniper let out a part gasp, part sob, ran to the trunk of the pine tree, and pulled it into a bear hug. Hazel was slower to react, but even she started to tear up. “You’re serious?” she asked.

A smile broke over Rowan’s face like a wave. “I’m serious.”

“What … How…”

“You know how we’re the ones who have to reach out?”

“Yeah.”

“She reached out first. I didn’t even have to ask questions. She did most of the talking, as usual.” The girls broke into a complicated amalgam of laughter and tears and grabbed one another’s hands. Finn couldn’t help but feel a prickle of envy as she watched them. They had found their mom. She was still looking.

Finn backed away to give them some space. She watched them from the maple as they dug two more holes. By the time all three of them had slipped their feet into the soil, Finn was gone.

When Myron’s truck pulled up to the house, Zadie spotted Finn sitting on the porch steps, squinting in the sun. “Hey,” she said as she dropped down from the cab, “how was the hike?” Zadie, of course, knew there’d never been any hike, but she wasn’t going to ask so what did the trees have to say? with Myron in earshot.

“Good” was all Finn said in return. She had that distant look in her eyes again, the one she’d had when they’d arrived the day before.

Myron had climbed into the truck bed with the fishing gear and was handing a tackle box down to Joel. “Will you take that inside for me?”

“Sure thing,” Joel answered.

Myron turned to Finn. “The girls in the house?”

Finn shook her head. “No, they wanted to keep hiking.”

“Hazel and Juniper, too?” He sighed, then grumbled, “I guess I’ll brush the goats myself.”