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Only one other person knew that.

When Jean-Guy had heard that Sam was now in Three Pines, he’d offered to come down. But Armand had declined.

“I appreciate it, but it’ll be okay. Merci quand même,” Armand had said on the phone that afternoon. Thanks anyway.

Through his study window he could see Billy Williams assembling the wood into a sort of teepee for the bonfire that night.

“It might even be a good thing.”

“How so?” asked Jean-Guy.

“Running away only makes things worse. I suspect the more I see him, the more I’ll realize he’s just a regular young man. Nothing—” What to say? Nothing sinister? Nothing disturbing? Nothing monstrous? “—more.”

Jean-Guy had long suspected the Chief Inspector had it backward. Beauvoir quite liked Sam. It was Fiona …

Jean-Guy never could get his head around Armand’s reaction to the boy. It was as though he was afraid of him. Beauvoir tried to set that thought aside as ludicrous but could not quite shake it. And his father-in-law’s reaction, immediate and visceral, that afternoon at the graduation only underscored that there was more there than met the eye.

While his offer to go down to Three Pines was sincere, the truth was it was the last thing Jean-Guy wanted to do. He was exhausted. He’d arrived at the neighbors’ barbecue just as the last overcooked burger was dropped onto the grass by some kid and eaten by some dog.

Then he’d spent eternity chasing Honoré, who was fueled by devil’s food cake, around the yard while Annie held Idola and smiled. Jean-Guy’s need to corral chaos almost always amused her, especially now there were two young children in the house. And with Honoré, they’d given birth to mayhem.

That boy loved being dirty and hated baths. Idola, on the other hand, loved baths. Loved being clean. Loved being dirty. Loved being held up, loved lying down.

She was still very floppy. The specialist said she would be for a while but would eventually, with training, be able to sit up by herself.

As he spoke to his father-in-law, Jean-Guy carefully supported Idola’s head while she slept in his arms, secure in the knowledge that she was safe and loved.

Jean-Guy Beauvoir thought about the Arsenault siblings and all the other children who never felt that. In fact, were raised knowing the opposite was true.

“Now that’s interesting,” said Ruth, breaking into Armand’s thoughts, just as Billy put another log on the bonfire, sending sparks into the night sky.

Across the village green, they saw Harriet laugh and place her hand on Sam Arsenault’s forearm. She said something, and he laughed. Just touching her arm before removing his hand.

Armand and Myrna exchanged glances.

“Well,” said the Reverend Mongeau, getting to his feet, “time to get to bed, I think.”

Again, he helped Sylvie up, and everyone rose to say goodbye. It seemed a good time for the adults to leave the party to the kids. Best not to see what happened next, they thought, remembering their own dances.

“Wait!” Harriet was walking quickly, if a little unsteadily, over. “You can’t leave yet, Auntie Myrna. I have something for you.”

She bent down and picked up a package wrapped in a towel that was under her chair.

“When I first came here, I was afraid of everything and everyone. It was all you could do to get me out of the bookstore.”

“Spiders!” said Clara. “Remember the spider incident? You got out fast enough then.”

“Peppermint toothpaste,” said Monsieur Béliveau, who ran the general store. “I had to hide it behind cans of mushroom soup. Actually, you were afraid of mushroom soup too.”

“Mushrooms could be poison,” said Harriet, as though that was reasonable.

“Heights.”

“Holes.”

“Okay, I give,” laughed Harriet. “Was I really afraid of peppermint toothpaste?”

Monsieur Béliveau nodded. “And Ivory soap. You thought it was made from elephants.”