I nodded.
“I know.”
She looked toward me.
“Does that bother you?”
I considered the question.
Then shook my head.
“No.”
She smiled faintly.
I continued.
“We know what the evidence established. We know you helped Ava. And we know Hannah loved her.”
My throat tightened.
“We don't need every missing second to understand those things.”
Kelly nodded slowly.
Then she looked toward Hannah's photograph.
“I wish I'd known her.”
I smiled sadly.
“I think she would've liked you.”
Her eyes filled.
“Really?”
I laughed softly.
“She would've made you help rearrange the entire kitchen.”
Kelly smiled.
“I probably would've enjoyed that.”
“She would've asked a million questions about your flowers.”
Kelly laughed.
“And I would've asked a million questions about Ava.”
I nodded.
For several seconds, we sat quietly.
Then Kelly placed her hand in mine.
“Jeffrey?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever think about how strange it is that I came here looking for somewhere quiet?”
I smiled.
“Frequently.”
She looked around the attic.
“I thought I was hiding from something.”
Then she turned toward me.
“But I ended up finding a place where people listened.”
My heart tightened.
I brushed a strand of blonde hair away from her cheek.
“And I thought I'd spent three years learning how to live without expecting anybody new to matter.”
Kelly smiled.
“Then?”
I looked toward the paper stars.
Then back into her eyes.
“Then a very beautiful woman appeared in my attic and completely ruined my plans.”
She burst out laughing.
“Oh, no.”
I grinned.
“Terrible situation.”
She moved closer.
“Can you recover?”
I pretended to consider it.
“Uncertain prognosis.”
Kelly laughed.
Then gently touched my cheek.
“Maybe you should stop trying.”
I smiled.
“Maybe I should.”
We kissed beneath the paper stars.
Outside, snow drifted over the Denver rooftops.
Downstairs, Ava was laughing with my sister.
And for the first time in years, my house felt full of life again.
Not because we'd forgotten the people we lost.
Not because an old tragedy had somehow become a blessing.
Hannah was still gone.
Kelly still had difficult days.
Ava would always carry questions about growing up without her mother.
And I would never pretend that discovering the truth erased the years we'd spent living with uncertainty.
But we had learned something important.
The accident wasn't the whole story of our lives.
Neither was Kelly's injury.