“Oh,” said Lily. “Oh.” Suddenly she crunched her face like a wrinkled pug. Joey felt Lily’s pulse in their hands, or maybe it was her own. Eventually Lily’s face unfolded. “Nope. I think my tear ducts are broken.”

Joey rubbed her thumb along the webbing between Lily’s index and middle fingers. “Here, I have an idea. What’s a place you feel really safe? What’s a place you go to and it’s like…it’s like a big hug?”

Lily looked thoughtful. “The beach.”

“The beach? Really? That’s my place too, Lil. Okay, so go to the beach today, and let yourself cry. This isn’t the day to do a video blog. If you don’t let yourself cry, then…”

Joey stared at the wall. How had she never noticed it was way too bright?

“Then what?”

“Then I think you get really hard inside. I think you get really hard and tough and it takes forever to go sweet and soft again.”

“Joey,” said Lily in a small voice, “will you meet me on the beach later to cry?”

Joey felt something rise up in her throat. “Oh, Lil. I wish I could. But I’ve got to paint all day.”

“Please.”

“Okay, Lil.” Joey patted her sister’s hand. “I’ll take a little break later.”

“Atlantic Avenue at six?”

“Yeah. That works.”

“One more thing. Can you give me my brother’s number?”

“Oh.” Joey’s vision fuzzed as she thumbed through her phone. She rattled off the number.

“Do you think he’ll want to talk to me?”

“I know he’ll want to talk to you. He came all this way for you.”

“Just for me?”

Joey didn’t answer. She got to her feet, grabbed her bag of art supplies, and walked to the door. Lily rose and followed after her.

“Where are you going?” asked Joey.

Lily rolled her eyes. “To finish sleeping in your bed, obviously. That couch is horrendous. New walls, new couch. We really need to get your house in order.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Sarah

Corfu
1945

In November 1945, the war was finally over, and the ferry deposited Sarah at the Corfu Town port.

Ever since her family had been briefly imprisoned on Lefkada nearly a year and a half prior, each day had lasted an eternity. Once the war had ended and Milos’s family had deemed it safe for her to return to Corfu, Sarah had purchased a ferry ticket and bid Milos the quickest of goodbyes, silently enduring his pleas not to leave.

She’d let him kiss her one more time though. Maybe it had been a gift for herself too. Either way, she’d felt a deep, heart-wrenching well of conviction that it would be their last of a lifetime.