Page 99 of Memories of the Lost

And Tillie knew what that meant. She leaned in and let her sister and her mother embrace her. She smelled home in Clare’s shoulder, and her sister’s hand touched her head, and although she had so many, many, many things to think through, she felt moored, too. “Thank you,” she whispered.

The moment ended, and they got up and went to the table, where a spread of fresh food and pie and big goblets of cider waited. Liam sat next to her, and Sage on the other, and they feasted.

And later, Liam curled with her in his bed and said, “I think I have to finish the European leg of the tour.”

“I think you do,” she said, brushing a finger over his knuckles. Light shone in through the window, illuminating his bright hair.

“And you have to finish your show.”

“Yes.”

“I hate the idea of not sleeping with you every night.”

“Me, too,” she said. “But I think if the universe or whatever worked this hard to get us together, we can probably trust that it’s going to be okay.”

“What would you think of coming here to live when we get through this round of stuff?”

Tillie paused, testing it.

He brushed his hand through her hair. “It is fast. I understand if you’re not ready.”

She made a soft noise. “But I am. It feels like so much has been lost that it would be almost criminal not to see where this goes.”

He kissed her, visibly moved. “Yes.”

They wove their hands together, and Tillie rested there, in the space he made for her. Time spun out ahead to a thousand moments like this, resting together as the world turned around without them, and she took a long, easy breath.

“You’re going to be an auntie.”

“I am!” Tears filled her eyes. “I was so alone as a child, Liam. I know you can barely imagine, being one of six, but it was always just my mother and me, away from town. I made up siblings and cousins and a father who was away on a journey.”

“A journey?” he echoed with a smile.

“Well, I didn’t want him to be at war or anything.”

He nodded. “Now you have a giant family. And more to come. There’re a lot of us on my side, too.”

She hadn’t even thought of this. The swell of longing rose so high and hard that she had to bury her face in his chest. Liam gently stroked her hair. Kissed her part.

When she had settled again, he asked gently, “Do you think you might want to be a parent eventually?”

“Not too eventually,” she said. “I’m not exactly a spring chicken.”

“Oh.” He sighed, curling closer. “That’s fine with me. The sooner the better.” He kissed her shoulder. The tip of her ear.

Tillie closed her eyes, suddenly wishing again she could tell her mother—who would always be her mother, no matter what else transpired—about all this, about Liam and finding her sister and Clare. She wasn’t mad at her, at least not right now. That would likely come as her memory filled in and she had more time to process.

But Arlette had been a broken, mentally ill woman, who’d stolen her, yes, but had also given her a good childhood and a strong foundation.

“I’m thinking so much of my mom,” Tillie whispered. “I wish you could have known her. She wasn’t a bad person. She really, really loved me.”

“I believe that.”

“I still miss her so much.” Grief, never far away, circled back and filled her. “I wish I could tell her about all of this. About Sage and Clare. And you.”

“I feel so sorry for her,” Liam said. “Losing her daughter.”

“Yeah.” Tillie stared into the dark. “I wonder how she did it, got me back to the US.”