ALICE'S POVThe tree was younger than I'd expected. An oak, slim but sturdy, planted on a ridge that caught the wind from every direction.Small wooden wolves hung from the lower branches on bits of twine — a dozen of them, maybe more, each one carved rough, each one different."I make a new one every year," Benjamin said. "On the day.""You carve them yourself.""Badly." He touched one, and the twine swayed. "I still sit here when it rains. I don't know why. I just don't want him to be alone in it."I looked at the wolves turning on their twine and didn't say anything for a while.Then I told him the truth instead."I wasn't at the funeral," I said.Benjamin went still."I was too broken to be there. I let Drake and Damian and David handle everything — the arrangements, the service, all of it. I couldn't make myself go."My voice came out steadier than I'd expected, for what it was carrying."I kept thinking, if I didn't see him like that — still, not moving — then some part of me co
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