“In March.” June’s voice was drowsy.
“In March.”
“I’ll be here in March.” June pulled her closer, arm warm across Melissa’s waist. “I’ll be here in a lot of Marches.”
She felt Melissa go still for a moment—felt her breathe, felt her let that settle somewhere.
Then Melissa pressed her face into June’s hair.
“Good,” she said.
June closed her eyes, and the summer ended, and the rest of it began.
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Melissa
Sunday, September 6th
The lake was quieter than it had been in July.
Most of the summer crowds had vanished, driven back to classrooms and offices by the turn of the calendar. School had started on Tuesday—Lila’s first day of second grade, complete with a new backpack, new shoes, and a packed lunch that June had insisted on making. Now it was Sunday, and the three of them had the lake almost to themselves.
Melissa spread the blanket beneath an oak tree and watched June and Lila at the water’s edge. Lila was attempting to skip stones, her small arm winding up with fierce concentration before each throw. Most of the rocks sank immediately, but occasionally one would skip once, twice, and Lila would whoop with triumph.
“Did you see that? It went three times!”
“I saw!” June crouched beside her, demonstrating the wrist flick again. “You’re getting really good. Try to find a flatter one, they skip better.”
The light was different now than it had been in summer—softer, more golden, slanting through the trees at an angle that made everything look like a memory even as it was happening. The air was cooler too, carrying the first hints of autumn, though the afternoon sun was still warm enough for bare feet and rolled-up jeans, at least for a while.
Melissa pulled her knees to her chest and let herself just watch.
This was new, this stillness. For years she’d filled every moment with work, with planning, with the constant calculation of what came next. Sitting quietly, doing nothing, being present—it had felt like failure. Now it felt like the whole point.
I almost lost this,she thought.I almost threw it all away.
But she hadn’t. Somehow, despite everything, she hadn’t.
A bird called from somewhere in the trees—a series of rising notes that Melissa didn’t recognize. Lila’s head snapped up.
“That’s a Swainson’s thrush,” she announced. “June taught me. They migrate south in the fall.”
“Very impressive,” Melissa called back.
“There’s also a…” Lila paused, listening. “A robin, I think? The one that sounds like it’s laughing?”
“That’s right.” June ruffled her hair. “You’re becoming quite the birdwatcher.”
“I’m becoming quite the everything-watcher. That’s what June says.”
“Did she now?”
June caught Melissa’s eye across the beach, her expression warm and sheepish. “I may have encouraged some observation skills.”
“She says paying attention is a superpower,” Lila added. “And that most people don’t use it enough.”
