Winter Garden

Meredith turned to look at her sister. "You have wings.”

"Huh?"

"Maybe I'm like some ostrich or dodo bird. I stayed on the ground so long, I lost the ability to fly."

From here, even in the darkness, she could make out the coastline. Here and there lights shone, marking peoples' lives.

They would always be a family, but if she'd learned anything in the past few weeks it was that a family wasn't a static thing. There were always changes going on. Like with continents, sometimes the changes were invisible and underground, and sometimes they were explosive and deadly. The trick was to keep your balance. You couldn't control the dire

How was it that her whole life could be distilled down to that simple truth? Words mattered. Her life had been defined by things said and unsaid, and now her marriage was being undermined by silence.

“I don't think men understand, though. ... They march off with their guns and their ideas and they think they know courage.”

Nina didn't know until then how a word like proud could rock your world, but it rocked hers, and she understood love in a way she hadn't before, the all-consuming way of it.

And Vera understands. It is time for her to quit marking time and start doing something with it.

"My granddaughters," he said quietly. Meredith could see how affected they were by the sight of him. For the whole of their lives he'd been like one of the apple trees on this property. Sturdy and dependable.

Jillian was the first to lean down and kiss him. "Hey, Grandpa."

Maddy’s eyes were damp. She reached over for her sister’s

But lately that kind of intimacy felt impossible. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, or when, but distance seemed to be spreading between them like spilled ink, staining everything.