A floorboard creaked behind us, and Rebecca appeared at the end of the hall holding her coat over one arm.

“We need to get on the road, Lily,” she said.

“The mist is coming up off the river.”

I turned to face her with the yellow wool clutched in my right hand.

“Did they have this same pattern in Mercer?

Did Paul give you one too?”

“Every hospital gift shop sold those knitted hats back then,” Rebecca said, reaching out to take Lily by the elbow.

“It was just a common pattern.”