Winter Garden

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.

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

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

"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

“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.

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

“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.

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

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.