“I know,” Joanna said.They climbed out, and the others followed a few steps behind, giving her room. She walked up the cracked path alone, boots crunching on dead leaves, and stopped at the threshold. Much of the house was destroyed: ceilings stained brown and bowed with water, wallpaper hanging in strips, glass crunching underfoot, a tree growing up through the dining room floor.But the memories rose anyway, as sharp and clear as if no time had passed.She had grown up here, with her mother, Gwen, and her stepsister, Alice. There was the kitchen where she had scrubbed the dishes every night while the other two laughed in the next room. The hall closet where she had kept the vacuum, because the vacuum was hers. Up the stairs, behind the broken banister, was the best bedroom, big and sunny, with a windo
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