but still in their glass.
“They did.”
“I was afraid I’d do it wrong.”
“You will.”
“Helpful.”
“You’ll do it wrong and repair it. That seems to be the job.”
Nathan was quiet.
Then he said, “They asked if you can come for breakfast next time.”
My chest tightened.
“With blueberries on top?”
“Obviously.”
The next time came on a Saturday morning in early spring.
Nathan’s maple tree had begun to bud. The air smelled damp and new, and Lily opened the front door before I knocked.
“You’re late,” she said.
I checked my watch. “I’m three minutes early.”
She considered this. “Then Uncle Nathan is late with pancakes.”
From the kitchen, Nathan called, “I heard that.”
Owen appeared behind Lily wearing a shirt backward and one sock. “Captain says come in.”
I stepped inside.
Nathan’s house was not quiet now.
There were crayons on the table, tiny shoes by
