Thanksgiving arrived with the promise of noise and warmth. Daisy and Lucy spent the day in the kitchen, bustling between the oven and counters, laughter trailing behind them. Lucas tried to help but was shooed away with floured hands and mock exasperation. “Go set the table!” his sister Lucy had grinned.
By afternoon, relatives poured in—uncles, aunts, cousins and his grandparents. The house swelled with voices and smells: cinnamon, sage, roasting turkey. For a while, Lucas let himself melt into it. He drank cider, played with his niece, even forgot the tight knot in his chest. For a while.
Then came the photo album. Grandma O’Hara sat near the fireplace, surrounded by children and cocoa mugs, flipping through plastic pages. She narrated each photo with proud precision—birthdays, snowstorms, piano recitals. Everyone laughed. Until she paused on a photo of Lucas and Lucy, both four, standing side by side.
They were on a deck. Ocean behind them. A white metal railing. In Lucas’s hand: a toy dinosaur. He felt a strange jolt. “Where was this taken?” he asked. His grandmother peered closer. “Oh, that? That was right after you were brought home.” The room went oddly quiet. “Brought home?”