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  Janelle took a drink of her own tea. “Everything you can think of.”

  Nan talked for half an hour before the tea was finished and her voice gave out. She told Janelle stories of her life as a child, growing up right there in St. Marys. Of her brothers and sisters. Her aunts and uncles. She spoke in warm and glowing terms of her mother, but didn’t weep for her again.

  “Do you have pictures?”

  “I’ve so many. Some are in albums. Some in boxes. So many pictures, so many years,” Nan said. “We can look at them. If you’re sure you want to.”

  Janelle squeezed Nan’s hand. “Of course I do. I want to know about my family. I feel like there’s so much I don’t know. I guess I want to...I don’t know. Feel like I’m a part of it.”

  “Oh, honey,” Nan said, squeezing in return. “No matter where you were, or how long you were gone, you’ve always been a part of it. Don’t you know that?”

  Janelle was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Nan.”

  “For what?”

  “For never coming back until now.”

  Nan squeezed her fingers again. “You had your reasons.”

  “No.” Janelle shook her head. “You were there for me when I needed someone. You let me come and live here with you, you put up with me. You saved me, Nan. And I just up and left. Never came back, not even to visit. You asked me to, and I just never did.”

  “That’s sometimes what children do, honey.” Nan sighed. “They grow up and go away. You had to find your own path, Janelle. You think I didn’t always know that about you? You had so much of your daddy in you that way—”

  “No!” Janelle cried, and pushed away from the table. “No, don’t say that. I’m not like my dad. I’m nothing like him.”

  The silence after her outburst was too loud.

  “I b’lieve I’ll have a little more tea,” Nan said mildly, and held out her cup for Janelle to fill.

  SIXTEEN

  WATCHING ANDY AND Bennett together at the table, Janelle felt a stab of something wistful. Andy was in his thirties, but still acted much younger. He reminded her of how he’d been as a teen, before everything had changed. He was...happy.

  “See, you need to carry this over.” Andy scribbled something on Bennett’s paper. “Your teacher wants to see your work, so you have to show it. Like this.”

  Andy was so good with her son. The times Janelle had tried to help Bennett with his math, she’d struggled along with him. He’d been cranky. She’d lost her patience. Now she just stayed out of the way, making dinner in the kitchen while Nan napped or read or watched TV.

  From the kitchen doorway she said, “You staying for dinner? I’m making chicken potpie.”

  Andy looked pleased, then concerned. “I dunno. I should make sure my dad’s got something for his dinner. And if Gabe comes home and I’m not there and I haven’t told him where I’m going to be...he gets mad.”

  “Your dad could come. Gabe, too. I made plenty.” Too much, actually, having misjudged the recipe and doubled it by accident.

  Andy laughed. “Oh. My dad won’t come over here.”

  “My food’s not good enough for him,” sniffed Nan from her place on the couch.

  Andy looked embarrassed. “He always used to eat whatever you sent over, Mrs. Decker. I remember that.”

  “Back in the days when I cooked.” Nan twisted to look around the pillows she used to prop herself up. “But he got mad one day about the bushes in the back, never took anything I sent over again.”

  Andy looked even more uncomfortable. “He’s...grumpy.”

  His fingers curled around the pencil, but not all the way. He had to force them. He did that now, not meeting Janelle’s gaze.

  “Don’t worry about it, Andy. If you want to stay, you can. If you need to get home for your dad, that’s okay, too.” Janelle didn’t want him feeling bad about it. She already knew Mr. Tierney was a curmudgeon. “You can call Gabe, tell him you’re staying. See if he wants to come over.”

  “Okay. I’ll text him. He probably won’t,” Andy cautioned.

  “Oh, ho ho, I bet he will,” Nan said, but then went quiet when Janelle gave her a look.

  “Hey, Andy,” Bennett said, as he watched Andy struggle with the cell phone. “What happened to your head, anyway?”

  Andy’s fingers crept slowly to his forehead, then along the white part in his hair, probing gently. “I got shot.”

  “Ouch,” Bennett said. “Did it hurt?”

  Andy took his hand away and shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

  “I bet it did.”

  “Bennett,” Janelle murmured. “Maybe Andy doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  From the couch came the low mutter of Nan’s snoring. Andy glanced toward her with a smile, then gave Janelle a slightly bigger one. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  To Bennett, he said, “We were fooling around with guns, and there was an accident. My brother shot me.”

  Bennett frowned. “Why were you fooling around with guns?”

  Andy looked at a loss for couple seconds and turned to Janelle for help. She shifted her weight from her good foot to her bad, then back again, trying to think of an answer. “People around here like to hunt, Bennett. So lots of guys, and girls, too, have guns.”

  “Guns aren’t toys,” Bennett said firmly.

  Score one for her parenting skills. “Yes, that’s right.”

  The obvious statement that Andy and his brothers had been reckless and foolish, and that their behavior had led to Andy’s injury, remained unspoken. At least by her. Andy, however, leaned forward to make sure Bennett looked him in the face.

  “Guns aren’t unsafe, Benny. People are.”

  “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people?” Janelle said.

  “Well, that’s true,” Andy replied.

  Janelle frowned. “It’s also true that they’re not toys.”

  “I know that.” Andy shrugged, then looked at her. “You know what’s more dangerous? Not knowing how to handle a gun at all. That’s how accidents happen.”

  To Bennett he said, “My brother could teach you how to handle a gun. You want to learn?”

  The boy lit up, already turning to her with hope all over his face. So much for her maternal lessons sinking in and making a mark. Janelle shook her head and noted his disappointment.

  “I’m sure you can both think of a very good reason why I wouldn’t trust Gabe with a gun around my son.”

  Andy laughed and shook his head in turn. “He’s probably the best person in the whole world to teach Bennett how to be safe with a gun, Janelle.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Because,” Andy said, now serious, “he already shot one person by accident. He’ll never do that again.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Then

  MIKE’S USELESS WITH a hammer, but Andy’s pretty good about pounding nails in straight and also about taking directions. Mike always wants to have a plan, a written diagram or something; he’s nervous about the way things fit together and whether it’s safe. Andy doesn’t care about that. He just likes using the tools.

  Even though he’s using his brothers for labor, this is still Gabe’s place. No question about it. Andy and Mike don’t come out here without him, and not just because they can’t drive and he has a car. They could lay claim to the patch of ground as much as he does, even the cabin, since they’ve put in a share of the work. But they don’t.

  This is Gabe’s place.

  “You’re going to kill yourself.” Mikey points toward the loft, where Andy has climbed to add on to the flooring. “It’s not even attached right!”

  Looking up, Gabe watches his brother grin, teasing his twin on purpose as he balances on a two-by-four that will eventually form the support for a new section of floor, expanding the loft. Andy holds out his arms, stands on one foot, pretends to teeter while Mikey shouts. Gabe laughs, though of course, the truth is that if Andy fell off the beam, he’d definitely b