“‘The mind is its own place, and in itself / Can make a heaven of Hell, a hell of Heaven.’ Still think this place is so terrible?” He sounds wistful.

“It has its moments,” I concede. And for an instant, I feel as if I can’t move. My eyes are locked on his, and I want to reach for him and erase the hint of sadness that I see in his face. But then I hear Claire calling to us.

I wade toward shore. My wet clothes sag around me, and it’s like dragging weights on my legs to move forward as I emerge. I feel the dry desert air picking at me. The sun blazes down, and I squint to see Claire hopping from one foot to the other on shore. As soon as I reach her, she cries, “Teach me how to do that! I want to swim with dolphins!”

“You got it.” I ruffle her hair.

“Hey, you’re wet!” she protests.

I shake like a dog, spraying her with water from my clothes. Laughing, she skips out of the way. I turn to Victoria and Sean. “Is our deal still on?” I ask Victoria.

Victoria smiles. She’s holding Sean’s hand with a grip that looks painful. “I can’t make promises for the rest of town, but you have our friendship.”

It’s a start, I think. “I don’t know why he left, and I don’t know why he hasn’t come back. I’m just as trapped here as the rest of you, and probably more clueless.”

“I already said I won’t shoot you.”

“I know, but...” I trail off and squint at her. It could be the light but...I look at Sean and then at Peter and then back to Sean and Victoria. A soft white light crinkles around their silhouettes. It reminds me of the overfriendly woman from the diner, Merry. “Is it me, or are they glowing?”

Sean and Victoria look at each other. Their eyes grow wide, and their mouths part in nearly identical expressions. And then they laugh, joyously and loud, the sound traveling over the ocean waves and melding with the sound of waves breaking and then crashing on the desert shore. It’s contagious. I find myself smiling, and then I notice that Peter isn’t looking at them. He’s looking at me with so much raw hope in his eyes that I feel stripped bare.

Claire is clapping and jumping up and down. “You did this! You helped them find what they lost!” She leaps at me and wraps her arms around my neck. She then jumps back. “Still wet!”

“I don’t...” I begin, pulling my gaze away from Peter. The two of them have tears in their eyes. Their hands are clasped, and their smiles are tentative, sweet, and completely clichéd in their adoringness. “But...”

Peter points to the ring on Victoria’s finger. “Claire is right. You found what they needed. You did it, without the Missing Man. Congratulations, Little Red, you just became interesting.” He says this in such a dry tone that I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. I wonder what it means that I’m Little Red again, not Lauren, and if he truly means to imply I wasn’t interesting before. I can’t ask him, so I focus instead on Victoria and Sean.

“But...” I don’t see how what they lost could have been each other when they were here together long before I arrived. Besides, Sean said the ring was intended for someone else, someone he didn’t marry. I don’t know how to frame the question without opening an awkward conversation. They’re beaming at me with wonder and awe. I feel my face flush red.

Peter waves his hand in the air. “You filled their emptiness!”

Sean clasps my hands. He kisses them as if I’m a queen. I half expect him to bow. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you...”

“I didn’t do much.” Worming my hands out of his grasp, I point to Peter. “He brought us out of the void.”

“Twice,” Peter says to Sean with false modesty. “I brought everyone here out of the void at least once. You, I saved twice. As I recall, you tried to fillet me for it.” He attacked Peter? I look from Peter to Sean, and I see Sean lower his eyes. I feel my hands curl into fists, and I want to step in front of Peter, even though he doesn’t need defending, not now and not by me. “Even worse, you never even made me your famous meatloaf.”

Sean’s eyes light up. “Yes! Let me cook for you. Please. It’s the least I can do.”

Claire jumps up and down. “Sean’s special meatloaf!”

Victoria is shaking her head. “We can’t guarantee your safety at the diner—”

“Cook at our house! Oh, pleeease! Your meatloaf is better than cupcakes!” Claire grabs their hands and drags them toward the little yellow house. Peter and I both lunge forward to stop her, but it’s too late. She’s already propelling them to the house, and they’ve already guessed that we live there.

I hear Peter swear under his breath, and I can’t disagree. I felt safer when no one knew we were here. Granted, they’ve promised to be friendly and nonhomicidal... “Maybe we can trust them,” I say softly. “They seem grateful.”

He snorts.

“Why don’t you like them? Did he hurt you? He attacked you, didn’t he?” I want to ask what happened, was he hurt, was it serious. But his expression is closed.

“Let’s say I’m not exactly the beloved son of the townspeople of Lost. I brought them here, after all, never mind that I saved them from oblivion.” He strikes a pose. “The pain of the misunderstood hero.” He sniffs dramatically and then drops the pose. “Pity me yet?”

“You saved me. Multiple times. You’re not the bad guy here. In fact, you stayed in Lost, continuing to help me and now helping Sean. It’s the Missing Man who left. He’s the one that people should be angry at. Not you. Not me.” I realize that I’ve raised my voice and that Victoria, Sean, and Claire have stopped skipping toward the house and are staring at me. I feel my face heat up and know I’m blushing.

Sean clears his throat and says, “I make a seriously mean meatloaf.” Claire smiles at him, and he ruffles her hair.

“‘Lay on, Macduff.’” Peter bows. “‘And damned be him that first cries, “Hold, enough!”’ After all, one can never have enough meatloaf.”

All of us troop up to the porch. Scurrying forward, I scoot past our new guests before Claire can unlock the door. “Can you two please turn around?”

Victoria opens her mouth to object, but Sean pivots to face the junk pile. Clamping her mouth shut, Victoria turns, too. Her back is stiff, and I know she isn’t happy to be mistrusted. Considering she had a gun pointed at me not long ago—and still carries it—I refuse to feel guilty for my inhospitality. Blocking the mechanism with my body, I unlock the door.

“Okay,” I say cheerfully, as if I didn’t want to escort them to the gate and send them away. I swing the door open and lead our guests inside. “Welcome to our home. And if you try to ‘fillet’ Peter again...” I try to think of a threat that would carry weight, and I can’t.

“That was past,” Sean says solemnly.

Peter studies the ceiling and says nothing.

In a show of politeness, Victoria leans her shotgun against the wall. I shoot a look at Claire and then nod at the gun. She knows what I want her to do. Regardless of how much she likes Sean or his meatloaf, she’ll hide the gun first chance she gets.

“Give me just one minute...” I duck into my bedroom and change into dry clothes as quickly as possible. I emerge to find that Sean is in the kitchen with Peter and that Victoria is poking her head into each of the rooms. I feel like a dog whose territory has been invaded.

Claire is following her like a puppy. If Victoria does anything dicey, Claire will shout. Or simply pull her knife. Victoria’s gun may still be in the hallway, but Claire is quick.

“Would you like a tour?” I try not to sound frosty—she’s not an enemy anymore.

“You managed to turn this place into a home.” Victoria waves her hand to gesture at the house and smiles, as if to make it clear that this is a compliment.

I summon a smile to match hers. “I plan to strip the wallpaper and paint the walls a soft blue.” I’ve already made a few changes to the hall: the photos of an unknown family are gone, and instead, one of the lost Degas hangs on the wall. “Still have a lot of work to do.” I lead her to the living room, where the front of the train engine juts through the wall. It’s broken a bookcase, and the books are spilled all over the floor. Bits of plaster dust have settled all over the couches. “Also, some cleaning to do.”