“Like the old days.”

“But without switching houses.”

He crosses the room and for a moment I think he’s going to stroke my cheek but he rubs his eyes.

“I’m glad of that.” He yawns. “I really need to sleep.”

We step into the hall and make our way to our rooms. Our gazes flicker to the balcony before we

each crack our doors open.

“Good night, Jace.”

“Night, Cooper.”

I drop lengthwise onto my bed, gripping my bedcovers. Breathing in the stillness, I replay the night

of the infamous Halloween-birthday-masquerade wedding.

lazurite

Dad stays at Lila’s side reading to her, playing games, watching movies, and taking naps with his

fingers entwined with hers. As the weeks pass into months, he wells up with tears every time he walks

into their room. He sleeps less and takes daily shots of port in his study.

I take over the rocking chair at her bedside, giving Dad the time he needs to pull himself together. I

understand though. Lila has lost so much weight, and her gaunt face is lined with pain that her meds

can’t entirely take away. She tries to eat for us but she doesn’t want to. She only wants to sleep.

And then a surge of energy overcomes her.

This morning she decided she needed to vacuum the carpets.

A strange beacon of hope coiled itself tightly in my gut. Could the doctors have gotten it all wrong?

I feel Dad’s hysterical laughter and see his hand searching for hers at the dining table as they share

a yogurt.

Then she curls up in bed like she does every normal day.

Dad hasn’t left his study since.

“It’s hard for him to see me like this,” Lila says.

“And it’s not hard for me?”

She pokes her tongue out. “I’m the witch that stole your father. Think of this as payback.”

I sober. “No, Lila. A long time ago I was angry but it’s been a long while now that I”—love you

—“have come to like you a fair bit.”

She laughs but it comes with a wince.

I rock in the chair as we listen to Jace’s hectic music leaking through the walls. Three, four, five

songs pass before Lila speaks again. When she does, it’s hushed.

“What’s the matter, Cooper?”

I meet her concerned blue gaze, which is so much like Jace’s it makes me tremble. “Nothing.”

She shakes her head and stares up at the lampshade, spinning from the vibrations of his music.

“You wear your emotions on your sleeve. You’ve been sad ever since Jace came home.”

I let out a rough laugh. “You think Jace is the one making me sad?”

“Yes. I think it’s my boy that touches your heart the most.”

The music seems to swell, seems to fill the room and turn my skin to shivers. “I don’t know what

you’re talking about.”

“I’m a dying woman. I have no time for lies.”

I shut my eyes and a tear escapes. My throat feels like it’s been scratched with a thousand

toothpicks.

Lila continues, “You used to be so close. Right from the beginning, you and my son sparked.” My

breath shudders. Lila’s voice softens. “He used to look at you like you held the answers to all life’s

mysteries. When you were doing dishes, he’d sit at the table longer just to watch you. When you were at

your mum’s, I’d find him curled in your bed holding one of your stones.”

“He did that?”

“Yes.”

This conversation feels like a confession. I’m afraid of what she might say, yet it’s exactly what I

long to know the most. When she doesn’t say anything for a long time, I clutch the arms of the rocking

chair and ask, “Is Dad Jace’s father too?”

Stunned silence.

Lila gasps out something akin to a laugh. “Of course not!”

But she took too long to answer. I don’t believe her. But she has no time for lies, right?

We look at each other for a long time, but she’s guarding her secrets well.

“Hypothetically,” I say during the silent moment in the music. “If he were Jace’s real dad, would

you tell them?”

Again, she waits too long to answer. “Of course. They’d want to know.”

“Would they?”

She smiles.

The music vibrates through the floor with a violently hopeful beat, then tinkers to something soft

and sorrowful.

“Do me a favor?” Lila asks. “Tell him to play something jolly.”

“We all grieve in our own way. This is his love song to you. It wouldn’t feel right asking him to

stop.”

Tears streak down her temples and over her ears. She struggles to sit up. I plump a pillow behind

her, and she grabs my wrist, rubbing her thumb over my skin. “I love you, Cooper. I know you have a

mum but I have one secret to share with you.”

“What’s that?” I ask, kissing her forehead.

“You are mine as well.” She lets go of me. “Don’t tell him to stop but don’t let him play my song

too long. There are others he should be playing.”

quartzite

Mum asks me to drive her, two casseroles and a coconut cake to Dad’s.

I pull up outside the house. Sunlight reflects off the windows and bounces onto the neglected lawn,

making it eerily bright. The straight lines and glass have dated over the years. What once screamed

We’re better than you now whispers Things change.

And haven’t they?

Mum stares out the passenger window. The light mirrors her freckled face and grim smile.

“You don’t have to go in,” I say, rubbing my thumbs over the steering wheel.

“I want to.” She glances down at the cake on her lap. White and square with a glassy luster like she

dunked it in fine grains of sugar. It looks solid, like it might score a seven on the Mohs scale. A chunk

of quartzite can withstand all pressure.

Mum sighs. “I just need to pray.”

“You don’t believe in God.”

“Sometimes I do.”

“What are you praying for?” Nothing can be done. Please don’t make me hope.

“For forgiveness.”

I drop my hands. Before I can ask, she speaks. “All those years ago when it didn’t work out with

your dad and I?”

“When he left?”

“Yes. No, before that. During our arrangement.” Her breath hitches. “I wished something bad

would happen to her. I didn’t mean it, not really. But now I’m sorry I ever thought that.”

Annie and I did the same thing.

I open our seatbelts and take the casseroles and quartzite coconut cake while she climbs out of the

car. My belly is twisting at the sympathy I see in Mum’s tight smile. “Let’s go see your father.”

We walk up the path bridging the grassy moat, each of us holding a lukewarm casserole in our

trembling grasp.

As I fish for my keys, I cradle the casserole under one arm. I’m unlocking the door but it opens

before I finish. Dad is staring at Mum.

“Hello, David.”

“Marie. It’s been a long time.” He runs a hand through his hair and steps back to let us in.

Mum steps inside. “Too long.”

Dad can’t seem to stop nodding.

“Pass me the food, Mum.”

She blinks. “Cake is for now. You can freeze the casseroles for up to four months.”

I’m moving toward the kitchen when Mum’s heels clack over the floor. She mutters, “I am so sorry.

You are both in my prayers.”

Dad gives a soft laugh, “You don’t believe in God.”

The house groans as I step into the dining room. Things change.

Mum’s voice trails behind me, soft and comforting. “Like father, like son.”

soapstone

“Hop in.”

I lean over the passenger seat and open the door. Clutching a bunch of mail, Jace stares at me

through the open passenger window.

I’d just come home from university and driven up the driveway. When I saw him, I had to get him

in the car. “Come on.”

He pulls the door open and slides in, gently tossing the mail on the dashboard. I rest a hand on the

back of his seat and reverse swiftly out of the driveway.