Jace sits forward on the rocking chair, hands clasped and resting at her side. He stares at the stone

too.

“It’s okay, Jace.”

“No, it’s not. You’re meant to be here.”

I flatten my back against the hall wall, then slide down until I’m sitting. I thumb the pages of my

dissertation as I eavesdrop.

“I can’t keep having this conversation,” she says quietly. “It takes too much energy. All I want is

for you to be happy. Can you do that? Can you be brave for me?”

A long pause.

“You’re right, Mum. I’m sorry.” He plants a quick kiss on her. “I want that too.”

“Tell me more about your travels. What was the stupidest thing you did?”

“Cheers, Mum.”

She chuckles. “Come on, then, spit it out.”

“I could never figure out the underground toll gates so I kept banging into them rather than through

them. Looked like a right idiot.”

“Bet you did.”

A laugh.

“I also left my luggage in a bus in Edinburgh and spent the next two days tracking it down.”

“That sucks.”

“But I had to find it because I had valuables in there.”

“Anything else? Come on, something embarrassing!”

“You’re cruel.”

“My job.”

“Fine. I almost got robbed in Rome. Some guy had my backpack and was heading out of the train. I

grabbed my suitcase and started running after him, yelling for him to give it back. Well, it turned out I

was wearing my backpack.”

Another soft laugh.

“In my defense, I was jetlagged as hell.”

“That has to be the stupidest thing,” she says.

Pause. “It’s not though.”

“What was then?”

The rocking chair creaks and thumps against the wall.

“It’s okay,” Lila says. “You don’t have to tell me everything. What was the best part of your trip?”

“Finding this,” he says, followed by a rustle of movement.

Lila whispers so it’s hard to catch. “Beautiful. Where did you find it?”

Jace whispers too softly for me to make out.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah, Jace. I’d love that. So long as it has a happily ever after.”

rhodochrosite

After the nurse tells us to prepare for Lila’s passing in the next few weeks, Jace disappears into the

bush, which glows with pale morning light.

I shove my feet into a pair of Dad’s old shoes—the nearest available—and chase after him.

He must have broken into a run because I can’t see him through the gaps in the trees. I follow the

creek around the bend to the cave.

He’s inside, huddled in the corner, his heavy breathing strained. For a moment, we’re kids again,

and I’m looking at myself panicking in the closet. But Jace lifts his head and fast-forwards me twelve

years.

I kneel next to him and rub his back. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it through this. We’re a team: you,

me, Annie, and Dad.”

“Because we’re family,” Jace says.

“Because we love each other.”

His breath hitches. He takes a long few minutes to stop trembling. When he does, he leans back

against the smooth, damp wall and rolls his neck until he’s looking at me.

It’s dark in the cave, but not as dark as when we come out at night; the glowworms don’t seem to

glow as much either.

“I want to forget everything, Cooper. Maybe laugh again. Just for a day.”

“Okay,” I say. I’ll give you laughter in times of sadness. “I promise.”

* * *

I think quickly, and half an hour later, I tell Dad I’m stealing Jace for the day and we’ll be back in

the evening. He raises a brow then nods, watching me prepare a daypack with the essentials: water,

food, and a picnic blanket.

I pull Jace from the loneliness of his room, my hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. “We’re going

hiking.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

In ten minutes, we’re hurtling down the street toward adventure. An hour later, we arrive at

Rimutaka Forest Park.

We pile out of the car, and I strap the daypack on. We’ve been quiet during the drive, but the

contemplative quiet. The one that heals.

We hike through the bush, chasing our shadows over a long, narrow swing bridge, and over hills to

the valley.

It’s late afternoon and few words have passed between us when our feet hit the rocky river edge. I

lead him over the rocks, to a stretch where the stones are smaller, shifting under our steps.

Surrounded by majestic hills, a glittering river, and sun-warmed stones beneath us, this is the

perfect spot.

I stop and so does Jace. He breathes in deeply as I take off my backpack, pull out a blanket and lay

it over a bed of pebbles. The stones sink with us as we sit, but it’s comfortable the way they mold to our

position.

I pull out leftovers from last night’s dinner—macaroni and cheese.

I hand him a fork and scoot closer so we can share. Our forks clink as we shovel down the pasta.

It’s cold, but cheesy and delicious.

Jace drops some on his pants, pinches the insubordinate pasta and pops it into his mouth, licking

this thumb. When we’re done eating, he casually rests his elbows on his knees and watches a flock of

birds lift into flight and disperse in the sky.

He sighs and speaks softly, “I asked Mum about my dad.”

I wrap my arms around myself, hoping futilely to contain a shiver. “And?”

Jace scrubs his face, and his fingers drift over his forehead and dig into his hair. Toward his knees,

he continues, “She said she’s sorry that she can’t give me more details about him.”

I watch the river water carve its memories on the rocks below as Jace’s words carve into me.

His voice stumbles. “I asked her what his name was again. ‘Roger, right?’ I said, and Mum nodded.

Said that was right. Roger.” His blue eyes brighten in the warm afternoon sun. “But there was never any

Roger. I made up the name to see if she’d trip up, and she tripped.”

I let out a slow, uneven breath. “That doesn’t mean anything, Jace. The nurse said the last stages of

cancer make it hard to remember things. People can get really confused.”

He’s staring at me but I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see the apology that might be there. The

apology and the final goodbye to us.

“Confused,” he repeats, and I close my eyes. A half-hearted breeze stirs between us like it’s dying.

Like it’s a sign.

“Let’s go,” I say. I resist the urge to throw a rock in the river.

“No.”

I open my eyes. Jace is shaking his head. “No. I’m not ready to go back yet. Another hour. Please.”

Another hour before we have to go home and face reality once more.

“Besides,” Jace says, putting on a brave smile. “I haven’t laughed yet.”

His sadness overwhelms me, and I yearn to eliminate it in any way possible.

“Lie down,” I tell him. He frowns slightly. “Trust me.”

He lies down.

“Close your eyes,” I say, feeling for small, flat pebbles. “Are they closed?”

“Yep.”

I crawl over to him and gently set one of the pebbles between his eyebrows. “Ideally this would be

rhodochrosite, but concentrate on the weight and nothing else.”

“Roadoc—what now?”

I press lightly against the stone and draw back, careful not to graze him but keeping close. “Shhh.

I’ll tell you later.”

Rhodochrosite. A magnesium carbonate mineral, light pink to reddish-pink, found in fractures of

sedimentary and metamorphic rocks. A three or four on the Mohs scale.

The stone is used for healing loneliness, loss, a pained heart.

I keep still next to him, saying nothing, just admiring his smooth sun-kissed skin, the etches of

humor at his eyes, the sharp angle of his nose, and his resting palms open in a show of complete trust.

After ten minutes, his lips curve into a curious grin. “Cooper?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”