One was enough.
The next week:
“Juice.”
Then:
“Blue one.”
Then two days of silence again.
Then:
“Where’s Biscuit?”
Daniel never celebrated visibly beyond what the moment could hold.
Inside, each word felt enormous.
Paula warned him gently.
“Don’t count.”
“I know.”
“You’re counting.”
“Yes.”
“Stop.”
“I’m trying.”
By early September, Lily spoke in short phrases.
Not constantly.
Not with strangers.
But speech had begun returning as one of several ways she communicated.
Evelyn came to Sunridge on a Friday afternoon.
No call.
Bottle of wine.
Daniel opened the door.
“I should have called.”
“No.”
He stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Evelyn stopped in the hallway.
Lily’s paintings now covered one entire wall.
Early abstract shapes.
Birds.
Trees.
Houses.
People.
The progression could be followed almost like a timeline.
“She’s speaking.”
Evelyn turned.
“When?”
“Three weeks.”
Evelyn’s face changed.
“Daniel.”
“Words first.”
“Now short phrases.”
“Paula says not to make too much of it.”
“So naturally you are making too much of it internally.”
“Completely.”
Evelyn laughed.
A small sound.
Real.
Daniel went to the kitchen.
“There’s something for you.”
He returned with folded paper.
Evelyn opened it.
Birch Road house.
Oak.
Three figures.
One tall.
One small.
One medium-height figure with dark hair.
Orange tabby in the corner.
At the bottom:
MY FAMILY.
Evelyn stared.
Daniel watched her.
She touched the words with one finger.
“Did she write this?”
“Yesterday.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
Daniel immediately looked away to give her privacy.
That somehow made it worse.
“She drew me.”
“Apparently.”
“And a cat.”
“We don’t have a cat.”
Evelyn folded the drawing carefully.
“That seems fixable.”
Daniel laughed.
Not almost.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
“Stay for dinner.”
Evelyn looked up.
Something shifted.
“Okay.”
They ate on the back porch.
Soup.
Bread.
Tomatoes from Walt’s garden.
Lily sat between them.
She pointed toward a bird.
“Waxwing.”
Evelyn looked.
“I think you’re right.”
Lily held out the bread basket.
“More bread.”
Evelyn passed it.
Daniel stared at the interaction.
Normal.
So ordinary it hurt.
After Lily went to sleep, Daniel and Evelyn sat on the front porch with wine.
Crickets.
Warm night.
Walt’s porch light across the road.
“I didn’t come here for the company.”