I mourned Julian on my own time, quietly, the way you tend a grave, and I never once let it into the case, and I would make every one of those choices again.

Chapter 16 — No Coat

Six months after the sentencing, the sun came down warm and gold over the hills around my father’s lake cabin, and I sat in a cedar rocking chair on the deck with a cup of tea going cool in my hands, and I watched my father tend a row of red geraniums in the boxes along the railing.

He had gained the weight back, and then some.