The next afternoon, while I was in the kitchen at Eric's house refilling an ice bag for Pete, I received a text from an unfamiliar number.

I racked my dusty old brain and remembered that I dropped my purse at the train bridge. You gave me a note and asked me to read it when I got back, and I put it in there. I went back the next day to find my purse but it was gone. That might be the explanation you're looking for.

I'm sorry that whatever you were hoping for didn't work out.

Let me know if there's anything else I can help with.

Pete was resting on the couch in the living room, propped up with pillows. I could tell he was feeling worse than the day before, but he was trying to hide it. He was quiet and closed his eyes for several minutes at a time without actually falling asleep. Every time he coughed or tried to speak he winced and clutched his side.

Eric was at basketball practice and the rest of his family was gone, too. I wished I could do something more to make Pete feel better, but understood that it would take time. I was grateful just to have him there, and if Liz hadn't left her purse behind when we traveled to 1969, he might not have been there at all.

Later in the afternoon, Eric and his family started to arrive home. Eric went straight to his room and Owen did his best to make polite conversation with us. Dr. Navarro invited me to stay for dinner and it was looking like the table was going to be crowded. Eric's cousin, Jessica, and Nora came over, and Dr. Anderson was actually home. Eric's grandma, Teresa, arrived home wearing a blazer and carrying a professional-looking leather satchel and I found out she was not only Nora's babysitter, but also a part-time microbiology professor at the community college.

This was going to be a lot.

Once everyone was arranged around the long dining room table, Dr. Navarro recited the recap Eric had given her to explain why Pete was recouperating there. He was Vanessa's friend who went to Northern, and a recent victim of a house fire who needed a place to stay for a while. Everyone welcomed him and gave their condolences before diving into what must have been their regular dinnertime conversation topics.

"Any good names today?"  Emma asked her parents.

"Just the usual for me," Dr. Navarro reported, "lots of Caydens, Jaydens, Aidens of various spellings. Sophias and Emmas. Nothing too terrible."

"Emma: still going strong," she said proudly. "I was one of the first Emmas, though."

"Jane Austen's Emma came like two-hundred years before you," I pointed out.

"But I was at the forefront of the current Emma wave. A trendsetter from the moment I was born."

"Oh, I had some good ones today," Dr. Anderson said, "Twins. Both named after a substance. You have to guess."

"Jack and Daniel!" Dr. Navarro guessed enthusiastically. "Or Margarita and Tequila!"

"Skyy and...Smirnoff?" Emma asked.

"He said a substance," Teresa reminded everyone, "not necessarily alcohol.  My guess is Mary Jane and...Poppy."

"Those names are actually cute though," Jessica said, then she turned to explain to Pete, "You would not believe the ridiculous names people give their kids."

"Indica and Sativa," Dr. Anderson announced. Everyone at the table looked confused except for Owen who snickered.  "They're two species of cannabis."

"Those parents must really love weed," Owen said.

"And their children will live with that for the rest of their lives," Dr. Navarro sighed as she shook her head.

"Are you both teachers?" Pete asked.

"I'm a pediatrician," Dr. Navarro explained. "Ken's an ob/gyn."

"A nose wiper and a baby catcher," Eric said dismissively.

"There's a lot more to it than baby catching," Dr. Anderson said with an eye roll.

"Doesn't seem like it."

"You never want to hear about what I do. You'd think a kid your age would want to know as much as possible about the female reproductive anatomy, but apparently you're not interested."

Owen snorted and Emma groaned and Pete's ears turned bright red.

"None of us are interested at dinner time," Dr. Navarro pointed out.

"I'm sure you don't know anything I can't figure out on my own," Eric said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Eric doesn't believe me when I tell him it's a surgical specialty," Dr. Anderson explained to anyone who still didn't get it.

"Oh yeah," Eric said as he plunged his steak knife into the meat on his plate, "he also cuts babies out."

"There are guests." Teresa scolded under her breath for everyone to hear. Apparently the topic of C-sections was where Teresa drew the line.

"Ness isn't really a guest anymore," Eric said. "She's here all the time."

Dr. Anderson sighed. "My seventeen year-old son wants to be an orthopedic surgeon and already acts like one."

"Ken," Dr. Navarro warned.

"My dad was a surgeon," Pete said.

"No kidding!" Dr. Anderson exclaimed. "What was his specialty?"

"I'm not sure. He died when I was ten." I tried to touch Pete's hand under the table and he brushed me away. "Not an orthopedic one, I hope," he contributed to buffer the hit his previous statement had on the mood. Everyone chuckled politely. Except for Eric, who was silently mocking his father's airy chortle.

"How'd he die?" Owen asked.

"Owen," Dr. Navarro said in a low voice.

"What? Don't act like you don't wanna know."

"He was in the Army. He was overseas," Pete glanced at me before continuing, "I don't remember the details."

"Your mom's dead, too, right?" Owen prodded, "What happened to her?"

"I actually don't know. I wasn't around when it happened. I left home and didn't find out until later."

"I'm sorry man, that sucks."

"Thanks."

"So your dad was a surgeon," Eric said, "but you're a-"

"A mechanic," Pete answered, looking down at his plate.

"You don't think you'd want to do more than that?" Eric asked.

A muscle in Pete's jaw flickered and he lifted his head. "Not all of us seek to outshine our parents," he said with a challenging gleam in his eye.

"Burn," Emma hissed.

Dr. Navarro changed the subject.

After dinner Pete walked with me to my car. I heard him wheeze as he slowly breathed the cold air into his lungs and exhaled. I reached into the backseat to grab the bag of essentials I'd bought for him after school and handed it to him.

"I guessed at the sizes. Hopefully they'll work."

He peered into the plastic shopping bag at the toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, socks and underwear. It was my first experience buying men's underwear. I went for the boxer briefs.

"You didn't have to."

"Of course I did. I thought, What would Sylvia Harrison do? She'd buy the lost soul some new underwear. Not that you're a lost soul," I corrected myself. "At least you know where you are."

"It felt wrong to say that she's dead," he said. "But she probably would be by now." He cleared his throat. "Thank you."

"I'm sure you'll need more stuff, I just thought that would be enough to start. I can take you to the store after school tomorrow before I go to work so you can pick out your own things."

"I can get there on my own."

"There's not much in town anymore. If you want to buy clothes or whatever you'll need a car." I gave him directions to Meijer and offered to leave my car at Eric's house for him and walk from there to school in the morning. "There's a key stashed under here," I pointed to the underside of the fender, "and I'll leave some cash in the glovebox."

Pete kicked at the dirty, hard-packed snow that clung to the underside of the car and frowned.

"This is killing you, isn't it? Let me take care of you this time," I said. I opened the car door to give him instructions. "So, it's an automatic so you don't even have to do all that shifting. You just put it in drive and go. Easy."