“All right, Penny,” Franklin called down to her. “Hold still. I’ll come around the house and see if I can get you from below.”

Penny nodded. “My leg…” she said.

Her leg was twisted into an awkward and unnatural angle against the nearly black branches of the cypress. Probably broken, Carlynn thought.

Jinks and Charlie accompanied Franklin around the outside of the house until they reached the area where Penny was stranded. The tree on which she’d fallen was low to the ground, and after a few minutes they were able to jostle her free, although not without eliciting cries of pain from her. Gently, they rested her in the small clearing near the house. By that time, nearly all the guests were in the yard observing the scene, and Carlynn rushed toward her friend, dropping to her knees at her side.

“Penny,” she said, taking her friend’s hand, “does anything hurt besides your leg?”

Penny shook her head. Her blouse was still only partially buttoned, and Carlynn was certain her father had figured out that Penny and Jinks had been petting at the time of the fall. She was relieved to see, though, that Penny’s leg now lay flat and straight against the ground.

“Where does it hurt?” Carlynn asked, trying to button Penny’s blouse with her free hand. Penny was shivering, and Carlynn motioned to Charlie to take off his jacket.

“Above my knee,” Penny said. “I think it’s broken. Is the bone sticking out?”

Carlynn rested Charlie’s jacket over Penny’s chest and arms, then carefully raised her friend’s skirt a few inches above her knee. She was relieved to see there was no blood or protrusion of bone beneath her stocking. She looked up at her father. “Get the boys to leave,” she said, pointing behind her. “Or at least get them far enough back that they can’t see.”

“We need to get some ice on her leg.” Jinks looked pale and anxious in the moonlight. “Maybe take her to the hospital.”

“Not right now,” her father said, and Carlynn was grateful that he understood what she’d meant and what she was intending to do. “Come on, fellas, let’s give Carlynn some room.”

Penny understood, too. On one occasion, she had accompanied Carlynn and Delora to Letterman Hospital and had seen with her own eyes the marvels Carlynn could achieve.

As the boys moved back to join the others, Carlynn slipped her hands beneath Penny’s skirt, unhooked her stocking from the garter belt and pulled it from her leg, while Penny winced with pain. Resting her hands on the skin above Penny’s knee, Carlynn looked into her eyes.

“Is this where it hurts?” she asked.

Penny nodded. “Yes, but a little more to the side.”

Carlynn shifted her hands slightly, and Penny nodded. “That’s it,” she said. “I think I heard it crack when I fell, Carly. Ugh.”

“Does it hurt a great deal?” Carlynn could already feel the area beneath her hands growing warm from her touch, and she knew that was a good sign.

“It’s horrid,” Penny said.

“And just what were you and Jinks doing on the terrace?” Carlynn asked with a grin.

“You mean—” Penny managed a smile “—this is God punishing me?”

“You never know,” Carlynn said. “You are the rowdiest of my friends—do you know that, Pen?”

“But you love me anyway.”

“Yes, I do. Very much.” She looked earnestly into Penny’s eyes. “Even though you’ve probably gotten me into big trouble with my father.”

“Sorry.” Penny giggled, the lightness of the sound encouraging to Carlynn’s ears.

She continued talking with her friend, keeping her hands on her leg, for another fifteen minutes. Finally, Penny said, “This is so strange. It’s not hurting. At least not while I’m lying still.”

“Move it then, with my hands still on it. Slowly. See if you can bend your knee.”

Penny bent her leg. “My God, Carlynn, it doesn’t hurt. Just feels a little stiff.”

“Do you think you can stand on it?”

She helped Penny to her feet and accepted the grateful hug she offered. The guests cheered from behind them, as though they were witnessing an injured player rise from the ground on a football field.

“Can you walk?” Carlynn asked. Penny began to carefully move toward the house, leaning against Carlynn, just in case. “Now,” Carlynn said as they neared the rear door, “we really should get some ice on it. No point in getting too cocky about all this.”

After the party, Carlynn and Lisbeth sat on the edge of the cold stone terrace, their legs dangling over the side, bundled up in jackets against the chill. Behind them, in the house, they could hear the tinkle of glasses and clatter of plates as Rosa and the other servants cleaned up. Fog was rolling in over the Pacific, but they could still see the lights of a boat that must have been quite close to shore.

“We shouldn’t be out here,” Carlynn said. “We’re both going to get sick, sitting on the terrace in the cold.”

“You can heal us, then,” Lisbeth said, and Carlynn looked at her quizzically.

“That sounded snide,” she said. “Did you mean it that way, Lizzie?”

It was a moment before Lisbeth answered. “Sorry,” she said. “I just…it still amazes me, that’s all. How do you do it?” She turned to her sister. “How did you fix Penny’s leg?”

It was not the first time Lisbeth had asked Carlynn about her healing skills, but this time the tone of her voice was marked more by envy than curiosity.

“I don’t understand any more than you do, Lizzie,” Carlynn said. “Maybe Penny’s leg wasn’t really broken. Maybe she just scared herself when she fell.”

“I saw it. It was twisted up.”

Carlynn gently let one of her feet touch one of Lisbeth’s. “I have to be touching the person,” she said. “At least I know that much. But other than that, what I do doesn’t seem like anything special. I’m not a magician. It’s just that when I’m touching a person, I think only about him or her. I try to send them all my love, everything good that’s inside me. I concentrate really hard.”

“It’s amazing,” Lisbeth said, shaking her head in quiet wonder.

“Do you remember Presto?” Carlynn asked. “The night before he was going to be put to sleep?”

“Of course.” Lisbeth nodded. Presto had lived for three more years after that night.

“All night long I lay next to him with my arms around him, and I prayed. I just kept hoping and praying he would get well.”

“Is it praying, then?” Lisbeth asked. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Not always. I’ve sort of experimented with it,” Carlynn admitted. “Sometimes I pray. Sometimes I just think as hard as I can about the person I’m touching. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. The only thing I know for sure is that, afterward, I’m more tired than you can imagine.”

Lisbeth knew this. She had seen her sister after her visits to Letterman Hospital. It was all Carlynn could do to drag herself upstairs to bed, and she would sleep so deeply that nothing could wake her for hours.

“You must be tired now,” she said.

Carlynn nodded, then rested her head on Lisbeth’s shoulder.

“I wish you could talk more easily to people, Lizzie,” she said. “They won’t bite.”

“Well, I can’t,” Lisbeth said a bit defensively. Then she sighed. “It’s just one more thing you can do better than I can.”

The following day was a glorious clear Sunday, and Franklin invited his daughters to go sailing with him. Only Lisbeth accepted, just as he’d expected. As he’d hoped. He’d observed his less popular daughter at the party the night before and wanted some time alone with her.

They set sail on the bay in his small sloop, and he allowed Lisbeth to take over once they’d motored away from the pier. The sea was calm, a sheet of pale aquamarine glass, but there was a good headwind, and Lisbeth showed real skill as she tacked far out into the open bay.

“You’re getting very good at this, Lisbeth,” Franklin said.

“Not very hard today,” she said. “The water’s so smooth.” But she was smiling at the compliment all the same. She leaned back on her hands, eyes closed, her pretty face turned up to the sunlight.

“Did you enjoy the party last night?” Franklin asked.

“Yes,” she said without opening her eyes.

“What did you like about it?”

She shrugged. “The music, I guess.”

Franklin licked his lips, letting a silence form between them as he tried to think of what he could say next.

“I have the feeling it was not much fun for you, honey,” he said finally, and then quickly added, “And that’s all right. I never much enjoyed parties either when I was your age.”

She opened her eyes to look at him. “You didn’t?” she asked.

He smiled. “I was actually a lot like you, Lizzie. My brother—your uncle Steve—was always the popular one, the one who commanded attention. He was more intelligent than I was, better-looking and far more interesting to the girls. I was the shy one, always afraid to say anything in case I sounded stupid.”

She looked surprised. “But you’re much smarter and nicer than Uncle Steve,” she said, then added, “No offense. I know he’s your brother.”

He laughed. “That’s my point, sweetheart. As I grew up, I got more confident. What I was like when I was sixteen didn’t matter anymore.”

Lisbeth looked out to the vast Pacific, where the air was growing hazy with fog, a crease between her eyebrows.

“You’ll blossom, Lizzie. Someday. It can’t be rushed, and you’ll need to be patient. But you have a lot of happiness ahead of you, and you’ll probably appreciate it more than Carlynn, because she’s known nothing else.”

Lisbeth smoothed her hand across the gunwale. “I don’t really want Carlynn to be unhappy, though.” She looked past the sails at her father.

“It’s not an either-or thing, honey,” he said. “You can both be happy. There’s not a finite amount of happiness to be divided between the two of you, where if you get more, she gets less.” He leaned toward her. “You and Carlynn are so lucky to have each other,” he said. “Other friends will come and go, for both of you, but you’ll always be there for each other.”