“All by herself.

One at a time, the whole way through her picture book.” Arthur looked up at me with his eyes shining, understanding completely, because he had learned to understand, why that mattered, why it was worth saying out loud, why it was in its own way as significant as any deal he had ever closed.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, to Maya, who ignored him entirely in favor of the golden retriever.

“That’s my brilliant girl.” I watched my brother on that mat many weekends, and I came to understand that Maya was healing something in him that I could not, something the reconciliation between us had begun but not finished.