“Claire,” Elisa says. She sounds a bit frantic. “Can you help me for a second?”

I look up and see that Elisa does indeed have her hands full. She holds eleven-month-old Lauren with one arm and balances a plate of burgers for the grill in the other. Four-year-old Layla, who is so frightened of being alone that she is never far from Elisa, clings to her leg, making it almost impossible for her to walk.

According to a social worker, a neighbor reported Layla and Lauren sitting in their front yard unattended, Lauren dressed in only a dirty diaper despite the fifty-degree temperature. The police found their mother inside the garbage-strewn home smoking a crack pipe. The kitchen cupboards held only a box of stale crackers and a container of formula with enough left in it for a few more feedings. Elisa broke down sobbing when she told me that. She and Skip hope to make the transition from foster parents to adoptive parents, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it works out. Someday, those little girls will realize just how lucky they really are.

I jump out of my chair and walk toward her. “Do you want me to take the burgers or the baby?” I ask.

“The baby, for now,” she says, handing a sleeping Lauren to me. She stirs a bit, but I hold her close and she closes her eyes again.

Elisa grabs Layla’s hand. “Let’s go drop off these burgers, okay?”

Layla nods eagerly, appearing happy to be asked. Happy to be taken care of at all.

Julia sits down beside me and strokes the baby’s head. “She’s precious,” she says.

I look at Julia and smile. “She is. Do you want to hold her?”

She nods, so I hand over the baby. She looks down at Lauren and then out into the yard, to where her own girls are playing. “Children. They’re so helpless,” Julia says. “It’s our responsibility to take care of them.”

I know at this moment that her remorse runs as deep as an ocean. “Yes,” I agree. “But they’re resilient, too.” I reach out and grab Julia’s hand and she squeezes it. I squeeze back.

After dinner, we put on some music. The sun goes down and the candles Elisa lights and places in the lanterns that hang from the trees, and the full moon, create a magical glow. Justin stands and extends his hand to Julia. I swallow the lump in my throat, and it’s all I can do not to burst into tears when he holds her close and sways to the music. Watching them restores my faith in a lot of things. I feel hopeful, not just for Justin and Julia but for Chris and me. Daniel, too. I read in the newspaper that he’s been moved to a rehab center and though he’ll have a long road ahead of him, he’s expected to make a full recovery.

Chris pulls me to my feet. “Dance with me,” he says. He holds me close and I lay my head on his shoulder.

Chris knows me better than anyone ever has or ever will. This is the man I’ll grow old with.

Skips dances with Layla in his arms while Elisa holds Lauren and smiles, and now I do tear up, just a little. The remaining kids join hands and do something that looks a little like ring-around-the-rosy except they laugh, and instead of falling down, they run faster and faster.

Chris and I got lost somewhere, and I don’t think we’ve completely found our way back yet, but we’re close.

Losing him would have been one of the worst things to ever happen to me. And the best thing I can do is put my whole heart back in his hands.

So I do.

At the end of the evening we gather our children and Chris laces his fingers together with mine.

“Let’s go home,” he says, and the word means something different than it did a year ago. It isn’t just the place we live. It’s the life we built together. The one we came very close to tearing down.

I hold his hand tight and say, “Home.”

epilogue

claire

I poke my head into the office. Chris is whistling as he types.

“The kids are over at Elisa’s,” I say. “The boys are playing and Jordan is helping with the girls.”

Jordan loves following Elisa around, assisting in any way she can; Layla worships the ground she walks on. Jordan can’t wait until she’s old enough to babysit them and this is her way of practicing. Elisa graciously indulges her.

“I’m heading out for a bit.”

He looks up from the computer and smiles. “Sounds good. Seth will be here in about fifteen minutes.”

I slide behind the wheel of my car and program the address for the rehabilitation center into my GPS. When I arrive I park and walk through the double front doors to a reception desk.

The woman sitting behind it says, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Daniel Rush.”

She types his name into the computer. “He’s in room 104. Go down the hall and take a left.”

“Thank you,” I say. He doesn’t know I’m coming, and I debated about calling first. In the end I decided I’d visit and if it was a bad time, I’d come back another day. As I near his room a woman with blonde hair exits and heads down the hallway. There’s something familiar about her, but I can’t figure out what it is.

I’m suddenly nervous. I have no doubt that Daniel’s still in pain and maybe he doesn’t want company. I take a deep breath and knock softly. His door is ajar, but he doesn’t answer, so I push it open a little more and peer around it.

His eyes are closed, but they flutter open when the door creaks. He smiles at me and the smile that lights up my face in return rivals any that he has ever given me. My chest feels tight and tears fill my eyes.

“I’m okay. Don’t cry,” he says when I reach his side. His voice sounds raspy.

“I’m not,” I say, although I am clearly in danger of breaking down and bawling any second. Trying hard to get my emotions under control, I sit down in the chair next to the bed and reach for Daniel’s hand. “I’m so happy to see you,” I say. His head has been shaved and there’s a light dressing over his wound. He’s wearing a T-shirt and looks thinner.

He gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“I was going to text you, but it seemed so impersonal. I didn’t know if you were taking phone calls. I’ve been so worried.”

“I know. But I was very lucky,” he says.

“How long will you be here?”

“About three more weeks. Then I’ll have outpatient therapy every day. I need help relearning some of my motor skills, and I have quite a bit of weakness on my left side. Recovery is going to be slow.”

“Are you in pain?”

“A little. Some days hurt more than others.”

“I’m so sorry about the reserve officer.”

Daniel nods. “I am, too.”

“Who’s taking care of you?” I can’t bear the thought of him being alone.

“My parents are here every day. Dylan has even stopped by.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“Jessie’s here, too,” he says, and I think back to the woman I passed in the hall. The one with blonde hair who looked a little like me. “I still had her listed as my emergency contact and they called her when I was brought in. She was the first person I saw when I finally woke up.”

“That’s wonderful,” I say. I squeeze Daniel’s hand hard, and I don’t even try to stem the tears as they spill out of my eyes. It makes me wonder if Jessie never found someone else after Daniel let her go. Maybe she really didn’t want someone else. Maybe time really does heal all wounds.

“She’ll be back soon,” he says.

Please let her stay by his side.

“It means a lot that you came, Claire.”

“I had to. I had to see for myself that you were okay.” I lean over and kiss Daniel’s forehead. He looks tired. “I’m going to leave so you can get some rest.”