Winter Garden

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.

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.

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

“It won't be easy," she said. "You know Meredith likes everything in its place. She'll want you here."

The smile he gave her was so sad and sloppy it broke her heart.

"You... hate easy."

"I do," she said quietly, stung by the sudden thought that without him, no one would know her that well.

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.

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

At twelve, she had already discovered the empty spaces that gathered between people.

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

"What will we be without him?" Meredith whispered, clinging to her.

"Less," was all Nina could think of to say.

Maybe she'd thought time was more elastic, or love more forgiving.