Chapter 19 — Steady Hands

Six months after the worst afternoon of our lives, the sun came down warm and gold across our backyard in Edmond, and I stood at the kitchen window for a moment and simply watched my family, and let myself feel how far we had come.

Leo was fourteen months old now, walking on sturdy, chubby, determined little legs, and he was standing in the grass with one small hand buried in the soft fur of the German Shepherd, patting the dog and giggling, while the dog, patient as only a well-trained working dog can be, let himself be patted by a toddler with the serene dignity of a creature who knows his job.

And on the wooden bench beside them sat Lily, my Lily, reading a book in the afternoon light.