Cooper tucked a strand of hair back behind his ear, self-conscious about the group looking at him now that he’d dared to speak. “The way the leaves are dyin’ but they still show up with all them colours. They know it’s the end for them, but it’s not the end they’re celebratin’. All them reds, miss. All them golds and yellas. It’s like, look at the life we just lived out here beneath the sky. Look how lucky we had it.”

Peter watched the ridge of Cooper’s Adam’s apple. The way it breached the surface of his throat sharply like a dorsal fin in water now he was desperate to swallow his nerves. But he had no reason to be nervous. His words had power to stir. They always did. Cooper had no faith in them, but there would never be anyone else who knew how to take those two weakling syllables Pe-ter and transform them into something of power and beauty. Never. And in this moment, it was barely even possible to remember all the different reasons they’d fallen out, let alone conjure up the pain they were causing. There was the boy on the white horse with the mountains in his eyes. And everyone could see him. The group seemed to lean into Cooper like flowers towards the sun and for a moment at least, snow at the window was the only movement, and the silence he brought was the peaceful kind. And Peter felt proud to call him his. But it wasn’t the answer Terri was looking for.

“Good, Cooper,” she said. “Now, can you be more specific?”

Cooper shrugged. “There ain’t nothin’ more specific than the seasons.”

“I know. But can you think of anything during fall that people might have to look forward to?”

“But people can look forward to that. I reckon there ain’t nothin’ more beautiful.”

“And I’m sure they do. We all do. But can you think of anything else?”

“Else?”

“Yes, something more than just the colours we can all look forward to.”

Cooper slumped back in his chair. “Hell. If you got all your own answers, why bother askin’?”

Terri recoiled. She tried to cover her shock by bluffing a smile. But it was no use. Everyone looked away to spare her embarrassment and an awkward silence gripped the hall. She exchanged uneasy glances with the sheriff who quickly set his cup down on the trestle as if he was readying himself to intervene. But Becky placed her hand across Cooper’s knee to pacify him and a moment later, Teddy took his cue.

“Thanksgiving!” he offered.

“Birthdays,” came another voice behind them. “Christmas!”

Yes!” said Terri, relief flooding her face. “Yes.” Then, “Absolutely. And can anyone think of some of the ways we might celebrate those?”

Teddy raised his hand. “Turkey and cake.”

“And?”

“And corn and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie.”