n a lightly falling rain, the Grey family walked home from church. On this first Sunday in November, the town looked dull and a little forlorn. Bare trees lined the empty sidewalks, their rough brown trunks blurred by the misty haze that rolled in off the water.

From a distance, the family would have looked like a black caterpillar, huddled as they were beneath their umbrellas, winding their way up the hill and down their long, uneven driveway.

This was always the worst part for Vivi Ann. She was okay with the Sunday morning walk to town, the service, and the refreshments. It wasn’t until now, the walk down the driveway, that she remembered that it was Dallas who’d planted these trees. They’d been tiny, spindly, untried things back then; the ground at Water’s Edge had nourished them, made them grow strong. Once, she’d thought she was like those trees, rooted here, planted firmly enough to grow and flower forever.

By the time they reached the house, piling their rainy outerwear and rubber boots by the door, Vivi Ann’s mood was as gray as the weather. It wasn’t that she was unhappy or depressed; rather, she felt listless. Out of sorts.

And she wasn’t alone in this. Noah had been moping around for weeks now, too, quick to slam doors and disappear into his music.

Vivi Ann tried to put all of that out of her mind on this Sunday afternoon as she led the way into the kitchen and started dinner.

“You do realize that the sherry-Parmesan-cream sauce and pie dough defeat the healthiness of the veggies?” Aurora said as Vivi Ann put three homemade chicken potpies in the oven.

“It’s a Paula Deen recipe,” Vivi Ann answered. “Be glad there’s no mayo or sour cream involved. Besides, you could use a few pounds.”

“I get more stuck in my teeth than she eats,” Winona said.

“Ha ha ha,” Aurora said, pouring herself another glass of wine. “That’s so funny I forgot to laugh.”

It was a remark plucked directly from the grassy field of their childhood, and Vivi Ann found herself smiling for the first time in days. Picking up her wineglass, she said, “Let’s go sit on the porch. Supper won’t be ready for forty minutes.”

They all went out onto the porch and sat down. Leaning back into the frayed white wicker chair that had been Mom’s favorite, Vivi Ann put her feet up on the railing and stared out over the ranch. A silvery curtain of rain fell from the eaves, blurring the green acreage, making everything look distant and insubstantial. The beach-glass wind chimes clattered musically every now and then, a reminder of who should be here and wasn’t. It made her wonder suddenly what this family would have become if Mom were still here. When you hear the wind chimes, remember my voice, Mom had told them all on the night before she died. Vivi Ann didn’t remember much from those last few months, had blocked out most of it, but she remembered that night, with the three of them clustered around Mom’s bed, holding hands, trying not to cry. My garden-girls. I wish I could see you grow.

Vivi Ann released a heavy sigh. What she wouldn’t give for one more day with her mom. She tapped the wind chimes, listening to their sweet clatter. For the next half an hour, they talked about unimportant things; at least she and Aurora did.

“You’re awfully quiet today, Win,” Aurora said from behind her.

“You sound surprised,” Winona said.

“It’s Mark, isn’t it?” Aurora asked. “Has he said he loves you yet?”

Winona shook her head. “I think true love is really rare.”

“Amen to that,” Aurora agreed.

Vivi Ann hated how bitter Aurora had become since her divorce, but it was understandable. Love could reduce you to rubble; lost love most of all.

“You found true love, Vivi Ann,” Winona said, looking up finally. “You and Dallas gave up everything for each other.”

“Winona,” Aurora said quietly, “what are you doing? Are you drunk? We don’t talk about—”

“I know,” Winona said. “We pretend he was never here, never a part of us. When we see Vivi Ann struggling, we ask about the barn or tell her about the new book we’re reading. When we see Noah bruised and bloodied for being Dallas’s son, we talk to him about self-control and sticks and stones that we pretend can’t break our bones. But they can, can’t they, Vivi? Why don’t we ever talk about that?”

“You’re too late, Win,” Vivi Ann said, striving to keep her voice steady.

“Definitely,” Aurora said. “Bones are supposed to stay buried.”

“But what if the person isn’t dead? Should he stay buried then?” Winona asked.

“Let it go, Win,” Vivi Ann said. “Whatever your new obsession is, drop it. I forgave you a long time ago, if that’s what this is about.”

“I know you did,” Winona said. “I don’t think I realized how generous that forgiveness was.”

“Until you fell in love?” Vivi Ann said, understanding now. Her sister had finally fallen in love, and with that emotion came a better understanding of how deeply Vivi Ann had been hurt.

Winona took a deep breath. “Until I went to—”

Behind them, the screen door banged open. “The oven is beeping, Mom,” Noah said.

Vivi Ann got quickly to her feet, thankful for the distraction. “Thanks, Noah. Okay, everyone to the table.” She hurried into the kitchen and got everything organized—the salad, the cornbread muffins, the potpies.

Right on time, she served dinner and took her seat.

At the head of the table, Dad bowed his head in prayer, and each of them followed suit, intoning the familiar words of faith and gratitude.

It wasn’t until the prayer was over and Vivi Ann opened her eyes that she noticed Winona, standing off to the left, holding a sheaf of papers to her chest.

“Don’t make us listen to your speech again,” Aurora said. “It’s my birthday dinner.”

Winona moved forward awkwardly; it was almost as if she’d been pushed. “I went to the prison last week and saw Dallas.”

The room went silent, except for Noah, who said, “What?” in a loud voice.

Winona handed Vivi Ann the papers. “It’s public record now. I filed at the courthouse on Friday.”

Vivi Ann’s hands were shaking as she read the document. “A petition to retest the DNA found at the crime scene.”

“He agreed to the test,” Winona said.

Vivi Ann looked at her son, saw the way he was smiling, and she wanted to cry.

“I knew it!” Noah said. “How long will it be before he can come home?”

Vivi Ann pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “You think he’s innocent, Winona? Now? You didn’t say a thing when it mattered.” Her voice broke and she stumbled backward.

Dad banged his palm on the table so hard the silverware and dishes rattled. “Stop it, Winona.”

“Shut up,” Aurora yelled at her father. She looked up at Winona. “Are you saying we were wrong?”

Winona looked at Vivi Ann. “Not all of us. She knew.”

“Do you know how many times I heard about motions or tests or petitions that would save him? I can’t take it all again. Tell her, Aurora. Tell her to back off before Noah gets hurt.”

“You can’t mean that, Mom.”

Aurora got up slowly and stood by Winona. “I’m sorry, Vivi. If there’s a chance we were wrong—”

Vivi Ann ran out of the room, out into the yard. Rain slashed at her face and mingled with her tears. She ran until she was out of breath, and then collapsed onto the wet grass.

She heard Winona coming up the hill toward her. Even in the symphony of the rain, the drops hitting the fence posts and leaves and the grass, her sister’s heavy breathing stood out.

Winona sat down beside her.

Vivi Ann didn’t move. All she could think about was how much she wanted to believe in all this again, and how much her sister’s support would have meant to her twelve years ago. For a moment, she hated Winona, but then even that emotion faded. Slowly, she sat up. “It will fail, you know. You’ll get all our hopes up, and drag us through the mud again, and in the end Dallas will stay where he is and Noah will know how empty life can feel.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “So just stop, okay?”

“I can’t do that.”

Vivi Ann had known that would be the answer, but still it hurt. “So why tell me? What do you want from me?”

“Your blessing.”

Vivi Ann sighed. “Of course you have my blessing.”

“Thanks, and just for the record, I—”

Vivi Ann got to her feet and walked away. In the cottage, she closed the door behind her, went to the kitchen and downed three straight shots of cheap tequila, then laid down on top of her bed, heedless of the dampness of her clothes or the fact that she still wore her dirty boots.

“Mom?”

She hadn’t even heard Noah come into the house, but he was here now, beside her bed.

“How can you not be happy?” he asked.

She knew she should say something to him, prepare him for the devastation that came in the wake of false hope. That was what a good mother would do.

But she had nothing inside of her right now, no spine, no spirit, no heart.

She rolled onto her side and tucked her knees up into her chest, staring at the stark, soft white mound of her pillow, feeling the unsteady beat of her heart, and remembering all of it. Most of all she remembered signing the divorce papers. Leaving him there alone, with no one to believe in him. For years she’d been telling herself it had been the right thing to do, the only way to survive, but now the excuse rang hollow. In the end, she’d given up on him. Left him all alone because it was too hard for her to stay.

When she heard Noah back up and walk away, and close the door behind him, leaving her alone with her memories, she didn’t even care.

Winona walked back into the farmhouse, leaving a trail of rainwater behind her. She stood there, alone, watching her sister do the dishes in the kitchen. Dad was in his study, with the door closed, of course; the Grey family signal for I’m-pissed-off-and-drinking-my-way-through-it.

Behind her, the door banged open and Noah came running back into the house.

“You so totally rock, Aunt Win.” He ran for her, threw his arms around her, hugging her as if it were already over and he’d gotten his life’s wish.

Noah drew back and immediately frowned. “What is it?”

Winona didn’t know what to say. The magnitude of what she’d done uncoiled, swelled. She prayed she was doing the right thing for the right reason.

“I need to talk to my sister, Noah,” Aurora said, coming into the living room. She was drying her hands on a pink towel.

“But I have a ton of questions,” he said stubbornly, “and my mom is just lying in bed. Big surprise.”

“Cut her some slack. Now go.”

Noah made a great show of dramatic disappointment—including slamming the door behind him—and left the house.

Winona glanced at the closed study door. “Did Dad say anything?”

“A rusted pipe makes more noise than he does. He’s a mean, pitiful old man and I don’t give a shit what he thinks. More’s the pity that you do.” Aurora moved forward. “Here’s what I need to know, Win. Is this for real?”

“What do you mean?”

“I love you. You know I do. But you’ve always been jealous of Vivi Ann.”

Dallas had said essentially the same thing. It shamed her to realize what people thought of her. And even more, to know that she deserved it. “I’m afraid he’s innocent. Is that what you want to know?”

“And can you really get him out of prison?”

“I don’t know. All I can do is try.”

Aurora said, “God help you if you fail in this, Win. She might not survive a second time.”

“I know that.”

“Okay,” Aurora said at last. “What can I do to help?”

“Be with her,” Winona said. “She won’t want to see me for a while, and I don’t want her to be alone. And Aurora?” she said when her sister turned away. “Pray for me.”

“Are you kidding? After tonight, I’m praying for us all.”

I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel right now and there’s no one to ask. Big surprise. I wish it was a school day so I could talk to Cissy. She would know what to say.

It all started at the family dinner we had last night. Everything seemed totally normal until Aunt Winona wouldn’t sit down for prayers. That totally pissed Grandpa off.

Then she gave Mom some papers and said Dad had agreed to the DNA test. I couldn’t believe it! I wanted to laugh out loud, but all hell broke loose. Grandpa slammed his hand on the table, and then Mom totally spazzed out and Aunt Aurora agreed with Aunt Winona.

Mom screamed something at Aunt Winona and ran out. I thought that would be the end of it, but Grandpa went totally postal. He got up so fast his glass fell to the floor and broke and he said you will not do this thing, Winona. Enough is enough.

And then Aunt Aurora said he was a mean old man and he ought to be proud of Winona for being able to see a mistake and to want to fix it.

Aunt Winona tried to explain that it wasn’t a choice she was making, that some things were the right thing to do, and he went into his study and slammed the door shut. I ran up after Mom and tried to talk to her, but she just curled up on her bed like a snail and stared at the wall, and when I went back to the farmhouse, Aunt Aurora threw me out. She didn’t even let me ask any questions. And Aunt Winona looked like she was gonna cry. It’s all a big mess. No one cares at all how I feel.

But I don’t care what any of them think or say, I’m gonna believe in my dad, and if that pisses off my mom, too bad.

On the morning of the mayoral debate, Winona woke well before dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. For a long time she lay in her bed, staring out the small panes of the French doors at the gray November morning.

At eight o’clock, she finally threw the covers back and got out of bed. Padding barefooted downstairs, she made a pot of French roast coffee, poured herself a big mug, and carried both the coffee and her debate notes upstairs.

For the next four hours, she sat in bed, reading and rereading her notes. She made sure that every necessary fact was firmly in her head—the population projections for Oyster Shores, the environmental concerns over the slow death happening in the waters of the Hood Canal, the socioeconomic hardships faced by residents as the salmon and timber industries lost viability. She wanted her neighbors to leave this debate with an absolute belief in her ability to manage their community. She wanted folks to say that she would undoubtedly become the best mayor ever. That was goal #1. Goal #2 was actually being the best mayor in modern memory.

At two o’clock, Aurora showed up, armed with her big makeup case and a new outfit for Winona. Vivi Ann was conspicuously absent.

Aurora pushed her way into the house. “I couldn’t stand seeing you in one of your boxy blue double-breasted suits.”

“Hey. They’re expensive.”

“That’s hardly the ‘A’ answer. Look, I’ve brought you this lovely Eileen Fisher outfit. It’s flowy but professional. And how about a necklace a little trendier than Grandma’s pearls?”

Winona sat down on the end of her bed. “I’m in your hands.”

“Perfect.”

“How’s Vivi?”

Aurora combed her hair out, began straightening it with a flat iron she’d brought from home. “Quiet. Afraid, I think. Noah is certain his dad will be coming home any day.” She leaned down. “You’re sure about this, right? The court will test Dallas’s DNA against the sample and let him out if there’s no match, right?”

Winona squirmed beneath the weight of that question. “All I know is I can’t sleep since I found out he might be innocent. You should see the prison... and Dallas. He looks as beaten as Vivi Ann does.”

“Yeah,” Aurora said, gently pulling Winona’s hair back into a pretty filigree barrette. “I always wondered... I mean, he loved Vivi Ann so much. I never believed he was sleeping with Cat. I should have said something back then.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to you. No one would have.”

“But it would have helped Vivi to know she wasn’t alone.”

Winona thought about that. It was true that sometimes the support of only one person could make a difference.

For the next hour, they left the topic of Dallas Raintree alone. They talked about the debate and next week’s election and the upcoming holidays. Aurora bitched about Ricky’s infrequent and rushed phone calls, while Winona studied her notes.

By the time they finally left the house, Winona knew she looked as pretty as was possible. Aurora had straightened her hair and done her makeup to perfection, emphasizing her brown eyes and pale skin. The outfit she’d brought was an unconstructed jacket made of a soft burgundy fabric and matching pants, with a black scoop-necked tank.

“Ready?” Aurora asked when it was time to go.

“Ready.”

They went outside and walked down to the high school. There, they ducked into the girls’ locker room to await the start of the event.

“Thanks, Aurora,” Winona said, hugging her sister. “Your support really means a lot to me.”

“Knock ’em dead, sis.”

Winona watched her sister leave the locker room, then sat down on one of the slick wooden benches to study her notes one last time. She was so deep into the facts and figures that she was startled when someone came to get her.

“It’s time, Winona.”

She laughed, feeling nervous and excited. Almost giddy with anticipation. She’d never been more ready for anything in her life.

Maybe she’d even go on from here.

Senator Grey.

Why not? She followed the council member out to the gymnasium, where hundreds of her friends and neighbors sat in folding metal chairs on the basketball court. In front of them, two podiums with microphones had been set up.

At her entrance, the crowd fell silent, watching her in what could only be described as awe. Their respect washed over her, gave her strength. She went up to one of the podiums and took her place behind it. A moment later her opponent strode into the room; he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You look mighty pretty tonight, Winona,” he said, extending his hand to shake hers.

“Why, thank you, Thad. But looks aren’t what matters here, you know.”

“Since I’ve been mayor for eight years, I imagine I know more about what matters than you do, but don’t let ignorance stop you from speakin’ your mind.”

Winona smiled brightly, thinking, I can’t wait to kick your ass, while she said, “We’ll see soon enough.”

Then, like a fighter in the ring, Thad went to his corner—the podium—and she stayed where she was. Between them, the man who’d been mayor ten years ago, Tom Trumbull, stepped up to the microphone and introduced the two candidates and outlined the rules for the question-and-answer debate format.

“We’ll direct the first question to Mayor Olssen. Thad, you’ll have two minutes to answer, and Winona, you’ll have one minute to rebut his answer. Shall we begin?”

Erik Engstrom immediately stood up. “Mayor Olssen. We all know that the mayor’s office is in charge of overseeing local law enforcement. How will your administration help make us citizens feel safer?”

It was a ridiculous question asked by an idiot, but there was nothing she could do about that. Smiling, she scanned the crowd, looking for friendly faces. Aurora and Noah were right up front; they nodded encouragement at her. Vivi Ann and Dad sat stiffly beside them; neither was smiling. Of course they’d be here. Dad wouldn’t let the town know there was discord at Water’s Edge. People would talk. For once she was grateful that he cared so much about appearances.

Mark and Cissy were seated in the back, with Myrtle.

“Your turn to respond, Ms. Grey,” Trumbull said.

Winona didn’t miss a beat. “Local law enforcement needs financial support and careful monitoring, but they certainly don’t need more government pressing down on them, making it harder to do their job. As mayor, I would make it my duty to aid Sheriff Bailor and his deputies, not to get in their way.”

Aurora and Noah clapped loudly in response.

Winona felt a trickle of anxiety when she looked at the rest of the audience; they were sitting with their hands in their laps.

Myrtle Michaelian stood up. “Winona,” she said in a halting voice. “I’d like to know how you think it’s staying out of the police’s way when you accuse them of being stupid.”

“I’m sorry, Myrtle. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I hear you suddenly think Dallas Raintree is innocent. So that means the police and the jury were either stupid or wrong. And I guess you figure I’m a liar.”

Winona understood the long faces looking up at her now. News of her petition had gotten out faster than she’d expected.

She took a deep breath and began to explain, forming each word with exquisite care, but as she looked out over the crowd, she knew. Her words might be perfectly chosen and elegantly, passionately strung together, but in the end they were weightless things, bits of sound and breath that disappeared like soap bubbles into the air. No one cared about remedying a long-ago mistake.

No one cared about Dallas Raintree.

Halfway through her explanation, Trumbull cut her off, saying, “Your time is up, Winona.”

And the people applauded.