Julia

“You need to eat,” Mom said, staring at me from across the kitchen table as if I were a four-year-old child.

Pushing the chicken around the plate, my mind went to Northern Wisconsin, to Paula’s meals, and more importantly to Van. “I don’t understand why they won’t release information even to me.”

“You saw the news release,” Dad said. “It said Donovan was stable and asking for privacy.”

The water ...