He flipped the box of candles around in his palm, then held it up. “So,” he said. “Think your brother would’ve liked birthday cake?”
She hesitated, but just for a moment, before reaching for his hand. “I do,” she said, looking at him intently. “And what about your mom?”
“I don’t know about that,” Peter told her, closing his fingers around hers as they began to walk. “But I do know she liked waterfalls.”
“Waterfalls?”
He nodded.
“That’s almost as weird as battlefields.”
“It is,” he said with a grin. “It’s exactly as weird as battlefields.”
When they rounded the corner, Peter could see that there was a small table set up near her brother’s grave, right there among the tall grass and the fallen crab apples. There were flowers and gifts and balloons, and there was a cake in the center of it all, around which Emma’s entire family stood, waiting for her. The dog skipped out ahead of them, loping along with a funny little gait, his tail streaming behind him and his ears pricked forward. He reached the group first and took a seat in their midst, waiting as Emma and Peter approached—hand in hand as they crossed the lawn, tired and happy as any two survivors of a great expedition—and then he lifted his head and let out a deep, echoing bark to welcome them home.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to all those who helped me find my way here: Jennifer Joel, Emily Meehan, Binky Urban, Rob Wooldridge, Kelly Smith, Courtney Bongiolatti, Niki Castle, Kristyn Keene, Andy Barzvi, Jenni Hamill, and my parents, Jim and Kathy Smith.
Table of Contents
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty-one
chapter twenty-two
chapter twenty-three
chapter twenty-four
chapter twenty-five
chapter twenty-six
Jennifer E. Smith, You Are Here
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