She pulled each item out, smelling them, holding them to her face. Although she’d cried for years and years, it felt as if these tears were new somehow, hotter; they burned her eyes and her cheeks. At the bottom of the box lay a framed picture of Mia and Zach and Lexi, their arms hung negligently around one another. The smiles on their faces were bright and shiny.

She could almost hear them laughing …

Mia would have been on my side in this.

Strangely, that sentence brought back Mia as brightly as if she’d just sailed through the door, saying, hey Madre, and laughing. And not the Mia of static memories, but Mia herself, with her megawatt smile and crazy fashion sense and her insecurities.

Mia would be on Lexi’s side in this. The thought of her daughter’s opinion shamed Jude to the depths of her soul. Mother had appealed to the worst in Jude—you told her no, of course. Lexi had appealed to the best in her.

You used to be the best mother in the world.

The words brought memories surging forward, and Jude was too exhausted, too depleted to hold them at bay any longer. She thought of Mia as she’d been in senior year—a quiet, thoughtful eighteen-year-old girl who had no idea how beautiful she’d become, who’d fallen in love for the first time and had her heart broken by a boy. A girl who loved without boundaries and found joy in simple things—an old stuffed rabbit, a Disney movie, a hug from her mother.

At that, Jude felt something break inside of her, like muscle tearing away from bone.

Hola, Madre, how was your day?

They’d thought they were fluent, both of her kids, after a year of Spanish. It used to crack Jude up, and they’d known it.

She sat there a long time, remembering Mia for the first time in years—really remembering her—and in finding the memories of her daughter, she reclaimed a lost piece of herself. And she was ashamed of who she had let herself become.

* * *

Jude had no idea how long she sat there.

Finally she looked down at her watch, surprised to see that it was time to pick up Grace from day care. In the old days, she would have forgotten her granddaughter on a day like this. She would have spent hours in the closet, perhaps even fallen asleep. Now she went downstairs, found her car keys, and drove over to the Silly Bear, where she parked out front, right on time.

“Hey, Nana,” Grace said wanly when Jude showed up, and it struck Jude suddenly, sharply, what Lexi had said: she’s afraid of you.

On the short drive to Zach’s house, Jude watched Grace in the rearview mirror.

She looked so much like Mia, but for once, it wasn’t the physical similarities that hurt Jude; it was the differences. Mia and Zach had laughed and chattered constantly, exploring their world like a pair of miniature Magellans, confident and happy … and secure in the knowledge that they were loved.

Jude parked the car and helped her granddaughter out of her car seat. Grace scrambled out of the car and bounded up to the house.

“You want to play a game?” Jude said, coming up beside her.

Grace looked up at her in obvious surprise. “You wanna play with me?”

“Sure.”

“Goody!” Grace ran into the house and back to her bedroom. She emerged a few moments later, holding a brightly colored Chutes and Ladders box. “You ready?”

Jude followed Grace to the table.

“You seemed quiet today at day care,” Jude said, moving her game piece forward.

Grace shrugged.

“How come?”

Grace shrugged again. “Jake’s mom brought treats.”

“And you didn’t get any?”

“I got some.” Grace stared down at the board.

“Oh.” Jude said, getting it. “His mom brought treats.”

“Everyone’s mom brings stuff sometimes.”

Jude sat back in her chair. How could this possibly surprise her? For eighteen years, she’d been the mom who brought treats. She’d been the party mom, the field trip mom, the constant presence. But she’d never done any of that for her granddaughter. “I could bring cupcakes sometime.”

“Okay,” Grace said, not looking up.

Again, Jude understood. “It’s not the same as a mom, is it?”

“Are you gonna play?”

“Sure,” Jude said. For the next hour, she concentrated on moving through the multicolored squares. She kept up a steady stream of conversation, and by the second game Grace had started to talk to her.

But she knew Lexi was right: Grace was not a happy little girl. Most of her talk was directed to the small mirror on her wrist, her imaginary friend. And why did children create imaginary playmates? You didn’t need to be a shrink to answer that question. It was because they felt too alone and had no real friends.

Jude was watching Grace so closely she didn’t hear the front door open.

Zach walked into the cabin, tossing his heavy backpack onto the coffee table.

“Daddy!” Grace’s face lit up as she ran into Zach’s arms. He scooped her up and kissed her all over her face, until she giggled and told him to stop.

Miles came in behind him, smiling.

Jude stared at the two of them—the husband she’d loved for so long and practically abandoned and the boy she’d nurtured like a rare flower for so much of his life and then turned away from. She saw the marks that grief had left on their skin, in their eyes, even in their posture, and she knew the part she had played in all of this. She had been the mud that kept them mired in grief. On their own, they might have healed.

You used to be the best mother in the world.

Jude stood up. “I need to talk to you two.”

Zach frowned. “Gracie, why don’t you get your coloring book and crayons? I love watching you color.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She slid out of his arms and scampered off.

Jude clasped her hands together. She had their full attention now, but she was afraid to say the words out loud. “Lexi came to see me today.”

Zach went very still. “What did she want?”

Jude looked at her son. He was a man; young, but a man, and she was so proud of him she could hardly bear it. When in the last few years had she told him that? “She asked me to supervise her visits with Grace. She can’t afford the court-ordered social worker.”

“What did you say?” Miles asked, moving to stand by his son.

“She can’t get to know … her daughter unless I agree,” Jude said, stalling now.

“What did you say?” Zach asked the question again.

Jude felt the rapid beating of her heart. “I’m scared,” she said softly. It was perhaps the most vulnerable she’d felt in years. She was out of control and uncertain and afraid. Usually she hid those emotions away from Zach and Miles, boxed them up; now she didn’t have that kind of strength.

She moved toward Zach, who had never been afraid when his sister was alive, and never lonely, but now she saw both of those emotions in his eyes. “I don’t want to do it,” Jude said, “but I will.”

“You will?” Zach said quietly.

“For Grace and Mia,” Jude said, gazing up at her son. “And for you.”

Twenty-five

Something weird was happening.

Grace and Ariel were on the sofa, curled up in Grace’s favorite fuzzy yellow blanket. The cabin lights were low and it was dark outside, so she couldn’t really see her wrist mirror, but she knew Ariel was there because she was humming. Ariel loved to hum.

Grace couldn’t tell time, but she knew it was late. She never got to stay up this long after dinner, and the movie on the TV had all kinds of bad words in it, and no one cared that she was hearing it. Or that she saw some guy shoot a bad guy in the head.

No one was paying attention to Grace at all. Daddy and Nana and Papa had been whispering together all night. They’d made a bunch of phone calls and looked at Daddy’s school calendar about twenty times. Grace didn’t know what they were talking about, but Nana kept snapping at Papa, saying things like, I know what you think, Miles, and, What will I say to her? Maybe I’ve made a mistake …

Papa said it was too late for that because Lexi knows and the loud whispering had begun again.

“Who’s Lexi?” Grace asked, looking up from the sofa.

The three grownups stopped talking and looked at her.

“It’s time for bed, Princess,” Daddy said, and Grace wished she’d kept her big fat mouth shut. Whining, she shuffled over to her Papa and opened her arms for a hug. He scooped her up and twirled her around, kissing her neck. She clung to him still, giggling as he let her go, and she slipped back down to the floor.

Grace went to Nana, who stood by the sliding glass door, chewing on her thumbnail. It took a lot of nerve, but Grace said, “Nana? Thanks for playing Chutes and Ladders with me.”

Nana stopped biting her thumbnail and looked down.

Grace tried to smile, but it wasn’t very good.

Then Nana did the most amazing thing: she bent down and picked Grace up.

Grace was so surprised she gasped. She would have hugged her Nana, but it was over so fast Grace barely had time to blink before Nana was whispering, “Night, Gracie. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

It was so weird. Grace sidled close to her daddy and slipped her hand in his back pocket, just so she could be close to him. He plucked her up and carried her down to the bathroom they both used. He helped her brush her teeth and get ready for bed. When she had on her jammies, he put her in her bed and sat down beside her.

Her room was messy, with toys everywhere, and her Wall-E comforter in a bunch at the end of the bed. Daddy pulled it up carefully, tucking Grace in.

“Are we gonna read more of The Secret Garden tonight, Daddy?”

“Not tonight, Princess.”

Ask him.

“What?” Grace whispered furiously to her wrist.

“How come you’re talking to Ariel when I’m right here?” Daddy said, frowning at her.

“Ariel thinks something weird is happening.”

“She does, does she? And what does she think it is?”

“What is it?” Grace whispered to her wristband, but Ariel had vanished. “I guess she went to sleep.”

Daddy reached over and unhooked Grace’s wristband.

“Can’t she sleep with me tonight?” Grace mumbled. It was an old fight, and she didn’t expect to win, but she had to ask.

“You know the rules. She sleeps on the nightstand.”

Her daddy stretched out on the narrow bed, with her big stuffed panda bear as a pillow behind him. Grace snuggled against him and looked up. “Daddy?”

He stroked her hair. “What, Gracie?”

“Who’s Lexi?”

He stopped stroking her hair. “Lexi is your mother.”

Grace scrambled to sit up. This was news. “What?”

“Lexi is your mother, Grace.”

“Wow,” Grace said. “Is she a spy?”

“No, honey, she’s not.”

“An astronaut?”

“No.”

Grace felt bad, but she wasn’t sure why. “Where has she been?”

“She’s been … busy. I guess those are questions you’ll have to ask her.”