“Wow,” she said.

Peter placed the tray on her lap. “I’m not much of a cook.”

Amy was staring at the food as if she were a prisoner released from years in jail. “I don’t even know where to start. The potatoes? The bread?” She smiled decisively. “No, the milk.”

She drained the glass and set to work on the rest, jabbing the food with her fork like a field hand.

Peter dragged a chair to the bedside. “Maybe you should slow down.”

She glanced up, speaking around a mouthful of eggs. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

He was famished but enjoyed watching her. “I’ll get something later.”

Peter went to the kitchen to refill her glass; by the time he returned, her plate was empty. He handed her the buttermilk and watched her polish it off. A healthy color had flowed back into her cheeks.

“Come sit by me,” she said.

Peter cleared her tray and perched on the edge of the bed. Amy slipped her hand into his. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

It felt so unreal, to be sitting here, talking to her. “I’m sorry I got old.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got you beat there.”

He almost laughed. There was so much he wanted to say, to tell her. She looked just as she did in his dreams; the short hair was the only difference. Her eyes, the warmth of her smile, the sound of her voice—all were the same.

“What was it like, in the ship?”

She dropped her face; her thumb moved gently over the top of his hand. “Lonely. Strange. But Lucius took care of me.” She looked at him again. “I’m sorry, Peter. You couldn’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you to live your life. To be…happy. I heard Caleb call you ‘Dad.’ I’m glad, for both of you.”

“He’s married, you know. His wife is Pim.”

“Pim,” Amy repeated, and smiled.

“They have a son, too. They named him Theo.”

She gently squeezed his hand. “So there’s a life, right there. What else made you happy? I want to know.”

You did, he thought. You made me happy. I’ve been with you every night since you were gone. I’ve lived a whole life with you, Amy. But he could not find the words to say this.

“That night in Iowa,” he began. “That was real, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not sure I even know what real is anymore.”

“I mean, it happened. It wasn’t a dream.”

Amy nodded. “Yes.”

“Why did you come to me?”

Amy’s eyes darted away, as if the memory pained her. “I’m not sure I know. I was confused, the change had happened so fast. Probably I shouldn’t have done it. I was so ashamed of what I was.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I was a monster, Peter.”

“Not to me.”

Their eyes met and held; her hand was warm, though not with fever; it was the warmth of life. A thousand times he’d held it, and yet this was also the first.

“Is Alicia all right?” Amy asked.

“Oh, she’s tougher than that. What do you want me to do with her?”

“I don’t think that’s my decision.”

“It’s not. But I still need to know what you think.”

“This isn’t simple for her. She’s been with him a long time. I think there’s a lot she’s not telling us.”

“Like what?”

Amy thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t tell. She’s very sad. But it’s like there’s a locked box inside her. I can’t get past it.” Their eyes met again. “She needs you to trust her, Peter. I’m one side of her; Fanning’s the other. Between us, there’s you. It’s you she’s really here to see. She needs to know who she is. Not just who she is: what she is.”

“So what is she?”

“What she always was. Part of this, part of us. You’re her family, Peter. You have been from the start. She needs to know that you still are.”

Peter felt the truth of her words. But knowing something was not the same thing as believing it. That was the hell of it, he thought.

“You’re not going with her,” he said. “I can’t allow it.”

“You may not have a choice about that. Alicia’s right, the city can’t stand indefinitely. Sooner or later, I’ll have to face him.”

“I don’t care. I lost you once. I’m not doing it again.”