She felt a stab in the vicinity of her heart and pressed her hand against her chest, though she knew the pain wasn’t physical. It’s jealousy. I’m jealous… And how irrational is that, she thought, when I have neither right nor reason?

But she was. As she watched them talking together, heads leaning close, she knew that she was jealous of Eric’s relationship with his cousin and childhood friend. Jealous of the easy intimacy between them, the familiarity that came of a lifetime of friendship, of shared memories.

Out in the yard, Caitlyn slipped an arm around Eric’s waist; her face, lifted to his, was earnest, her beauty dampened now by the gravity of her features. Eric was smiling his crooked smile as he dropped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a quick, affectionate squeeze. And the pain in Devon’s heart became an all-over ache of longing.

It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.

Eric’s words, spoken in the quiet of night in the intimacy of his bed, came into her heart like a searching finger of sunshine, and she felt a small shiver of hope. When this is over, she thought. When the custody issue is settled, maybe then. Maybe it’s still possible. Anything is possible, isn’t it?

I hate this, she thought, with a momentary surge of anger. I hate being like this. If this is what falling in love is about-so much doubt and uncertainty, so much vulnerability and fear-I don’t want it. I want myself back!

Just that quickly, the anger was replaced by fear. What if I never get the old Devon back, she thought. What if this is going to be me from now on? Her hand touched the cool glass of the window pane. Oh, Eric. What have I…what have you done…to me?

There was a clatter of stamping boots and slamming doors on the back porch, and a gust of cold, damp air swept into the warm kitchen. With a smile firmly in place, Devon turned to meet the newcomers, while outside Eric and Caitlyn walked on together, shoulder-to-shoulder, under the skeleton trees.

“Everything’s in there,” Caitlyn said. The envelope passed quickly from her hand to Eric’s, and from there to the inside of his jacket. “Passports, social security cards, driver’s license. It’s an Arizona license, by the way-your hometown is Prescott. What about money?”

“I have enough,” Eric said. “Enough to get us settled.”

“What’s your bank?” He told her, and she nodded. “They’ll have branches everywhere. You’ll need cash. As soon as the banks open tomorrow, stop at one and withdraw everything you can, then destroy your old IDs. When you get where you’re going, you can open a new account with your new ID-okay?”

“Got it.” His voice felt like gravel, like broken glass.

“You’ll need to be ready. And watching. If the driver sees a light on in your bedroom window, he’ll wait fifteen minutes, that’s all. You’ll have to take Emily and whatever else you can manage to carry and get yourself down to the road.”

“Understood.” He’d stopped walking to gaze over her head, frowning at nothing. She stopped, too, and put her hands on the front of his coat.

“Eric-if you change your mind, all you have to do is leave your light off. Don’t keep the rendezvous. It’s that simple.”

He shook his head and grimaced in pain; his throat ached and his jaws felt cramped. “Don’t have much choice, do I?”

“You always have choices,” Caitlyn said softly.

He shifted his shoulders as if settling himself under a burden. “No-I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. It’s just…” He took a breath and laughed with the pain. “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard.”

“Leaving here, you mean? Your folks?”

“Yeah, that, too…”

“You don’t mean…Devon?”

He tried to smile. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I’ve been all over the world and never found the right woman, and she goes and shows up here, of all places-on my mom and dad’s doorstep.”

“Oh, God, Eric…”

“It’s like I said on the phone. I never really appreciated what I had here,” he said quietly, squinting over her head. The day was turning overcast, but his eyes burned. “You know that-I couldn’t wait to get away. Lately, though, I’ve actually been thinking about living here. Not full-time-maybe like a base between assignments, you know?” He threw Caitlyn a rueful, sideways grin. “I’ve even thought about living here with Devon-raising kids…Emily…a few more of our own.” And he laughed at the incredulous look on her face. “Hey, it’s a fantasy.”

“Do you think she ever would?” Caitlyn’s voice was hushed with astonished disbelief. “She seems so…”

Eric shrugged, and his smile slipped sideways. “Not that it matters now. Hey-come on.” He dropped an arm across her shoulders and turned her back toward the house. “It’s time you met the woman who’s changed my life.”

The family was gathered in the parlor again. The massive Christmas meal had been eaten-some of it; the rest, except for the desserts, left out to tempt and entice, had been packed in Tupperware containers and freezer bags and put away. The chores had been done early. The forecast was for snow, though not a blizzard this time, and no one seemed particularly concerned about the roads.

As evening came they all drifted, one by one, into the parlor, Mike and Lucy, with Emily in her arms, taking the recliner; Wood and Chris snugged up with Devon on the couch, friendly as family; Eric across the room on the piano bench and Caitlyn cross-legged nearby on the floor. They’d sung carols again-a great many of them, with Wood’s and Chris’s and Caitlyn’s strong voices making a real chorus of it, and though she wasn’t needed, Devon joined in when she knew the words.

Sleep in heavenly peace…

The last notes of “Silent Night” died away, along with Lucy’s misty sniffles, and it occurred to Devon that there was a kind of quietness inside herself, now, that might be called peace. All things considered, it had been a good day, a pleasant day. She’d met Caitlyn, and wonder of wonders, found that she liked her. She liked Wood and Chris, too-they were all such warm, open-hearted people, these Lanagans and Browns, it would have been hard not to like them. The tension and turmoil of the past few days seemed to have disappeared, though outwardly Eric was as distant as before. But today she carried with her memories of the night they’d shared, and sometimes when she looked at him and found his eyes on her, glowing like warm brandy, she knew he was thinking of it, too.

It’s going to be all right. He’d said those words to her with such calm, such certainty, as if he knew something she did not, and she clung to them now like a talisman.

Once again it was time for opening presents. Most were the gifts exchanged between the two families, of course, but to Devon’s astonishment, there were two more for her, as well-a tiny gold angel on a chain from Chris and Wood, and a book of inspirational essays from Lucy and Mike. Chris and Wood and Caitlyn all thanked Eric for his e-mailed gift certificates to an on-line bookstore. Then Caitlyn held up a glossy gift bag decorated with teddy bears.

“This is for the wee one,” she said, lifting it up to Eric.

He leaned to place the bag at Lucy’s feet. “Here, Mom-you’ve got the kid.”

But Lucy handed it on to Devon, saying, “Why don’t you open it, dear? I’ve got so many…”

With an apologetic glance at Caitlyn, Devon placed the bag on the floor between her feet. Caitlyn smiled and nodded. Devon lifted the concealing pouf of tissue paper out of the bag. Slowly, then, she drew the plump yellow bear out of its tissue paper nest and placed it on her knees.

The room around her grew silent, the people in it faded to shadows. Of their own volition her fingers crept to the bear’s back and found the small key they somehow knew was hidden there. She turned it and the tinkling notes of a familiar lullaby filled the room.

Someone in the happy babble of voices was saying, “Devon, what is it? Is something the matter?”

And from a great distance she heard her own voice reply, with a laugh as small and light as the notes from the music box, “My sister Susan used to have one just like this…”

Memories don’t have to be big, you know. They can be anything-a smell, a song, a particular toy, a moment.

Devon lay awake in the last cold darkness before dawn with those words echoing in her mind and the tinkling notes of a music box lullaby all around her like ghost music. A moment…

Please, Devon, don’t leave me…

She had woken from the nightmare, as so many times before, with Susan’s voice-the voice of the child Susan-ringing in her ears. Only this time, this time there were the images, too.

The suitcase, open on the bed, and Susan…eight years old, standing beside it…hugging her old scruffy yellow bear as if it were her last and only friend. Susan, with tears streaming down her face, sobbing, “Please, Devon, please don’t leave me…”

And then the rest. The part she’d forgotten. The part she couldn’t let herself remember. “…don’t leave me here with him. He hurts me, Devon. He hurts me…”

She thought it strange, as she lay drained and heavy in the darkness, that she should feel so calm. It seemed to her it should happen more dramatically than this, remembering things so terrible, forgotten for so long. She thought of movies she’d seen-T.V. dramas involving shrinks and hypnotists and emotional trauma. I should feel something. But the memories were of things that had happened to someone else, some other little girl, some other life. All she felt was a cold and well-remembered self-loathing, an icy, crawling sense of shame.

I have to tell Eric, she thought, as the first gray light came to thin the darkness. I have to tell him he was right…about Emily, about Susan… About everything.