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feel optimistic about Molly’s recovery. She hoped it was not simply wishful thinking.
    The motion of the train took her back to the many years this subway had been her daily transportation. I’ve done a lot of thinking and read a long list of books riding the rails like this. She was reminded of how she had loved her work, the intellectual growth it had involved, and the satisfying challenges of research—all left behind when she chose to stay in France. But it was my choice, she argued with herself.
    There was leftover stew for dinner, after Philippe’s call.
    They Skyped this time but did not talk long, although they were happy to see each other on-screen. Words seemed not to come easily. It felt bizarre, they agreed, for their contact to be solely by phone, Skype, and text, after the intensity of their life together the past few months.
    Philippe seemed a bit tense, as if something was on his mind. He denied it when Katherine asked, replying, “It’s just strange not to have you here all of a sudden.”
    At the same time, Katherine was becoming aware that having some space between them perhaps was a good thing. There might be nothing wrong with her taking a long look at the changes in her life.
    Her three-month home exchange had turned into a new life. A new her. Was it real? she wondered. Have I simply been seduced by the lure of the narrow cobblestone streets, the history, and the beauty that surrounds me there? Is my attraction to Philippe part of the hypnotic spell under which I find myself? Why am I asking myself all of these questions now, when I’ve been feeling so strong and positive about my life in France?
    Blaming those thoughts on jet lag, she pulled herself into the present.
    Alone in the house for the first time, she walked from room to room, pausing to soak in the memories, feeling like the child who grew up there. Every once in a while, she would become conscious of her age and see herself as her mother was at the same age.
    That only served to raise more doubts. Am I too old for all this? Too old to start all over? What if Philippe gets tired of me?
    In the past year, she had often found herself surprised to accept how her life could change at this late stage. It had become clear that anything could happen, no matter when, if she wished to make it so.
    Her old bedroom brought back memories of Molly again. How many times had the two young friends whispered and giggled to each other when Molly had stayed over? How many nights had Elisabeth put her arms around Molly as she cried in fear, having run from her father’s abusive behavior? And how many times had her young brother, Shawn, followed along behind Molly, asleep in a sleeping bag at the foot of the bed?
    Kat stopped to sit on her old bed, surrounded by the furniture and ghosts of her youth. She had brought a few storage boxes up with her and began to pack things.
    Then she went downstairs to her mother’s favorite armchair. Upholstered in pale-pink brocade, it was soft and comfortable. Elisabeth had sat there and watched out the window for Kat to arrive for a visit. Now Kat closed her eyes, trying to channel Elisabeth.
    Your spirit surrounds me, Anyu. I can feel it. How I miss you.
    There was no one Katherine knew who faced stressful issues with more calm and wisdom than her mother had throughout her life. After all the horror and tragedy Elisabeth had experienced during World War II and then the deep and loyal love she had shared with her husband, Jozsef, into their eighties, she had owned a sixth sense about life.
    Kat’s mind wandered, thinking how much fun it would be to tell Elisabeth about Philippe and France and everything that was happening. Then she thought how none of this would have happened if Elisabeth were still alive. Kat would never have gone on that home exchange in the first place. Life does work in mysterious ways . . .
    Her gaze settled on a collection of photographs in silver frames on the small side table. Elisabeth had