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terms with reality, she was surprised by the terror that gripped her. She was at a crossroads in her life. Leaving Simon wasn’t the only thing that was happening to her, but it had its own sort of importance. Struggling to hide her secret fear, she said, “Ah, hell. Simon and I broke up, and—”
    â€œAnd?”
    Not now.
    â€œEverything went to shit. Nothing seemed right anymore. I wanted to see Lila and meet the boys, and…I missed you.” The truth of it reverberated through her, the breeze shimmering audibly through the trees. “I’m sorry. What more can I say?”
    â€œYou don’t need to apologize. God knows, I’m no saint.”
    â€œYes, you are.” Jessie had always known it, ever since Luz had played the Virgin Mary in the fourth grade Christmas play. Jessie, in first grade, had been in the hosanna chorus, with the sacred duty of ringing a bell on cue. She could still picture her sister, robed in blue, kneeling over a basket of straw containing a swaddled doll. Some artistry of lighting had suffused Luz’s face with a glow of maternal piety that made the women in the audience reach for their husbands’ hands, and even the gym teacher had to wipe away a tear.
    Even then, thought Jessie. Even then.
    Of course, their mother had missed the performance. Each December Glenny played in the Coronado Invitational in San Diego. Jessie couldn’t recall which neighbor had looked after them that year.
    â€œLuz? Is it that bad, that I came back?”
    â€œNo.” She put a trembling hand on Jessie’s. “It’s that…I didn’t really think you’d ever be back. The work you were doing over there sounded so fabulous… Perfect, like a dream.”
    Jessie took her hand away. “It was fabulous and perfect for a long time, but—” She hesitated. “It’s over now.” She gripped the armrests of her chair. “Luz, do you ever think about telling Lila?”
    â€œOh, Jess. ” The night shadows haunted Luz’s face with mystery and pain. “Of course we’ve thought about it.”
    â€œBut you never said anything.”
    â€œThat was your idea,” Luz reminded her, “and we agreed to honor that. We moved back here when she was three, so there was no chance of someone asking an awkward question in front of her. People still remark on how much she looks like me.”
    â€œShe does look like you.”
    Luz nodded. “Like both of us. Once in a while, someone remarks that she looks like Ian. Can you imagine?”
    Jessie took a swift gulp of wine. Yes. She could imagine.
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I have brought it up. The first time I tried to explain things to her was when I was pregnant with Wyatt. She was four. She asked me if I got so big when she was a baby in my tummy. It was simply beyond me to lie, even to a four-year-old. So I told her she was a baby in another woman’s tummy, but the moment she was born, I became her mommy. She laughed and told me I was silly, so I didn’t push the issue. It seemed cruel to burden her with information that would only confuse her. She never asked again and I’m sure she forgot the incident. And she was always a difficult child, given to taking dangerous risks.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, risks? Why didn’t you ever tell methis stuff? It’s not like I was incommunicado—we had letters, e-mail, phone calls.”
    Luz combed her fingers through her hair. “It was nothing that serious, but she’s contributed her fair share of gray. The first thing she did when we moved out here was jump off the dock—and she didn’t know how to swim. That same year, she went toddling out to the neighbors’ cow pasture to pet a Charleroi bull. She broke her arm jumping off the Walkers’ barn roof, flapping a pair of homemade wings, because she thought she could fly. I don’t think I let her out of my sight until