Neither of us knew how to live in a house that did not have him in it.
Almost two years on, I said something to my husband that I had been turning over since about the summer.
“He had such a big heart, Pete. If he was here I think he’d want all this going somewhere it’s needed.”
And that is how we started.
We visited Bramfield House for several months, and that is where we met Immy, who was six.
She was shy at the start, and each time she was a little less so, and in the October she came home with us.
On her second day, Immy was on the living-room floor with her cards and Pete and I were doing dinner.
And then she went quiet.
When I came in she was standing by the shelf, looking up at a photograph in a frame — the three of us at Silas’s graduation weekend, on a wall outside his halls in Harlan.
