They arranged a video call with Millie in the nursing home. The photograph on Gwen’s kitchen table became a bridge between three homes: Gwen’s in the city, Millie’s in the quiet care of other people, and Julian’s on one sunlit street. Millie’s voice cracked when Julian played the tune from the porch. Tears ran down her face like little facts rearranging themselves.
“T.J.?” Gwen asked before she could stop herself. They arranged a video call with Millie in the nursing home
“It’s enough,” she said finally, voice small but steady. “It’s enough that he’s alive.” ” she said finally