Her balance was perfect, her body having adjusted long ago to the asymmetrical weight of her frame.

We drove southwest, toward the Blue Ridge Mountains.

The hills rose up around us, green and ancient under the clear blue Virginia sky.

We arrived at the campus in Blacksburg by mid-afternoon.

The grey stone buildings looked solid and permanent against the mountain backdrop.

As we carried her things into the dormitory room, a silver sedan pulled into the parking lot below.

A woman got out, wearing a green linen shirt and sunglasses.

It was Rebecca.

She had driven up from Richmond to help with the heavy lifting.

She did not rush up to us; she stood by the gravel path, waiting until Caroline noticed her.

Caroline looked down from the second-floor window, then looked at me.

“I asked her to come,” Caroline said softly. “I told her she could help carry the desk chair.”

“I think that’s a very good job for her,” I said, putting my hand on Caroline’s shoulder.

We went downstairs together.

The greeting between mother and daughter was quiet, marked only by a brief nod of acknowledgment.