“He needs to grieve," I tell her. "He'll come find us when he's ready.""Rose is never going to be dead," she says, too disheartened to sound bitter.”

“I wonder if she has figured out that I'll never love Linden, especially not in the way she does, and that he'll never love anyone the way he loves her. I wonder if she realizes, despite all her efforts to train me, that I can never take her place.”

“I'm going to call you Rose," he says with resolution, working the back off an old clock.”

“He looks at me, and I don't know what he sees. I used to think it was Rose. But she's not here with us now, in this room. It's just him and me, and the books. I feel like our lives are in those books. I feel like all the words on the pages are for us.”

“So how long do you think it’ll be?” he says. “Before the next hurricane comes along to take you home.”“Can I tell you my biggest fear?” I say.“Yes. Tell me.”“That it will be a very windless four years.”

“Someday I'll tell you all of it," I say."I'd like that," he says."No," I say. "I promise you won't.”

“Maybe it is desperation," I say. "Maybe we can't let things fall apart without trying. We can't let go of the people we love."He looks at me, and in the sunlight his eyes come alive with greens and golds. "Sometimes we can," he says.”