Haley barely slept on the overnight bus back to Edmonton. The pitch-black landscape passing by outside the window seemed a world away from the tranquility of Fort Helena, but she couldn't help but find a similar shape in her grandmother's landscape paintings. Her canvases always depicted snowy towns and a young man. Perhaps Abigail's illustration skills were inherited from her grandmother.

7:00 AM. As the bus entered the city, she heard an email notification. It was from her mother, Abigail.

"I fell asleep and can't finish my work delivery. I can't move. I'll have Yuu pick you up, so wait for him at the station."

Haley sighed and muttered as she put her smartphone back in her pocket.

"That's so obvious. Mommy had something bad happens or she's harbouring a secret, she always escapes to work. It was the same when I was 17. One night when she wanted to cry, she'd open her MacBook and shine the light of the screen on her face until the morning."

As we exited the Bonny Doon LRT station near their house, Yuma waved, his usual gentle smile on his face. His hair was a little grayer, and deep wrinkles were etched into the corners of his eyes behind his glasses. A little while after they got into their car, parked in a parking lot of the shopping mall next to the station and started the engine, the breeze from the heater gently enveloped Hailey's chilled cheeks.

"Mom, you couldn't make it after all."

"Yeah, apparently their client is in Seattle. Apparently they can't change the delivery date."

"That's a convenient excuse."

Yuma gave a wry smile and drove off in silence for a while.

A wordless silence hung between them for several minutes as they drove through the suburban streets and arrived home. Haley wondered how much of what she'd seen in Fort Helena she should share. Was it right to tell this person about her mother's hidden past?

That evening, she received a message from Abigail.

"You two eat dinner first. There's stew in the fridge, heat it up."

She put the pot on the stove, and the aroma of cream and bay leaves filled the kitchen. As they sat down at the table, Yuma suddenly muttered, "Abby told me you went to that town."

Haley stopped holding her spoon.

"Are you angry?"

"Do you think she has a reason to be angry?"

"Of course she does. I dug up things that Mom didn't want to talk about, after all."

Yuma shook his head slightly.

"It's only natural that you want to know the things she couldn't talk about. The question is, how do you deal with it once you find out?"

Haley took a breath and spoke with determination.

"I saw a photo of Grandma and Richard at Fort Helena, from when she was registering as a donor. Grandma wasn't drawing a 'picture' of him, she was drawing a memory."

Yuma said nothing. He just took a mouthful of stew and put it to his mouth, his eyes fixed on the distance.

"Abby once told me, 'There may be lots of kids out there who look just like me, but I only want to see the one sitting at this dinner table.'"

Hayley listened to her words in silence. She sensed a faint mixture of pain and forgiveness in the voice of the man she had called father.

"So... did you know about Richard, Dad?"

"Yes, I did. I asked him about it before we got married.

Abby cried and said, 'You're having visions.'"

Yuma laughed.

"I didn't care if I was just an illusion. No matter who she was thinking about, the reality was that I was by her side."

Hayley's heart tightened. The thought that she might have been born from an extension of someone else's illusion had been stinging in the back of her mind.

"Hey, Dad, do I... look like him?"

"Richard? No, I'm not."

Yuma laughed a little and shook his head.

"You look like Abby. The way you look in the depths of your eyes, trying to 'paint what you can't see'."

Hayley bowed her head and slowly put her spoon down. The ticking of the clock's second hand echoed strangely loudly around the dining table, where warm steam still rose.

"I met a teacher in Fort Helena. His name is Joshua Keesmaat."

"Yeah, Abby said she'd heard his name before, too."

"He also has Richard's genes. But he's not from that town. He was born in the outside world and made the effort to 'come back'. He wanted to see his blood as 'history,' not as a 'research subject.'"

Yuma was silent for a while, then finally spoke.

"I see... He's also looking for a place to return to."

"A place to return to?"

"Yes. Not blood, not records, but a place with 'evidence of life.' I'm sure it's the same for you, right?"

Hayley nodded.

"Yes. But I'm happy here."

Yuma narrowed his eyes slightly. His expression was filled with gentle surprise, like the day his daughter first learned to speak.

At nine o'clock in the evening, the front door key sounded. Abigail came in still wearing her coat and dropped her bag on the floor. Her hair was messy, and she looked tired.

"Welcome back."

Yuma said, and she nodded briefly, then smiled as she looked at the empty plate on the table.

"I'm glad you ate."

Hayley stood up and walked over to her mother. She said briefly.

"Mom, everything's okay now. I know. But I still want to stay."

Abigail's eyes watered for a moment. But she didn't shed a tear, and she reached out to touch her daughter's cheek.

"Thank you. That's enough."

After she said that, an indescribable silence spread between the three of them. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, and snow began to lighten outside the window.

This house is home to "three bloodlines." But despite each of their separate pasts, they were gathered at the same dining table. Haley burned the scene into her mind and muttered to herself.

"Even if you're not related by blood, trying to understand someone's silence. That must be what it means to be a family."