Jenna pulled her cardigan tight across her chest. “I’m not sure. The doctors say it’s early-onset Alzheimer’s, but I’ve treated many patients with the disease and this feels different.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“A registered nurse. I retired last year to take care of Nora full time.”

“What makes you think it’s something different?”

Jenna suddenly looked uncomfortable. “How much do you know about your mom’s past?”

“Not much. She didn’t like to talk about it.”

Jenna sighed like people do at the beginning of a long explanation. “Did she ever act strange? Wander off without telling you where she was going?”

Zadie swallowed, nodded.

Jenna glanced at her sister through the gaps in the screen. “She used to wander off a lot as a teen. Never left a note. Eventually our parents stopped worrying because she always came back. Then one day she didn’t.”

“How long ago was this?”

“It was 1999. For years, we looked for her. It broke my parents’ hearts.”

If what Jenna was saying was true, a twenty-three-year-old Nora had run away from her hometown—from her family—to have her. But why? Why travel all the way across the country to have a baby in a strange town where she didn’t know a soul? Why do it alone when she had a sister and parents who could have helped her?

Because it was never up to her, Zadie thought. Her mom was as much a victim of her circumstance as her daughters, maybe more so. She’d not only lost her family—twice—but she’d lost all the memories that make up a life. It was like she had never lived at all.

Zadie stole a glance at Nora. “My sister, Finn, is going through the same thing.”

Jenna looked momentarily stunned by the realization that she had not one niece but two. “Is she losing her memory, also?”

It was a long explanation, one Zadie didn’t have time for. “Sort of. She’s in trouble, and I’m hoping Mom can help me.”

Clearly dubious, Jenna said, “You’re welcome to try.”

Zadie stepped out from behind the screen and approached her mom once more. “Can she hear us right now?”

“Maybe. She isn’t always able to respond, but I can tell sometimes that she’s listening.”

Zadie approached her mom and placed a hand gently on her freckled arm. She was frailer than Zadie remembered, more porous-looking, like one wrong move could turn her hollow bird bones to dust. “Mom, if you can hear me, I need your help. Finn’s missing.”

What appeared to be a small frown seeded between Nora’s eyebrows.

“Keep going,” Jenna said, moving in closer.

Zadie squeezed her mom’s arm tighter. “Her echoes have been bad lately. The memories she’s been having … well, they’re yours.”

Nora’s frown deepened.