“Oh, children, do be praying for this man,” Lily said.

“Somebody’s moved in?” asked Circa.

“Yes. He arrived here the day of the storms,” Lily said. “He just showed up shivering like January with a sack full of stuff and wouldn’t tell us the first thing about himself, so we assume he’s got some kind of dementia. I figure as long as we got the room, how could we turn him out on the street?”

“What’s his name?” asked Circa.

“Wish I knew,” said Lily. “The man came in wearing an old army captain’s hat with some patches on it, so we all just came up with Captain Mann.”

Circa grew more curious, but Miles got a sudden sickly look, like he’d had a delayed reaction to the flying toenails.

“We’ve contacted the police about him, but they haven’t done much to turn up any information yet,” said Lily.

“We know,” said Circa. “There’s no such thing as a Found Person Report, per se, right?”

“Yeah, that was something like it,” said Lily with a grin. “No one’s even come by to evaluate him yet,” she added. “But I figure it’s just as well, ’cause he hasn’t even come out of that room hardly at all.”

Lily held up her hand to shield a whisper. “Except of course when the sly fella snuck out and took a joyride in the van last Sunday, while the rest of us were singing in the chapel.”

“Nuh-uh!” said Circa.

“True as truth,” said Lily. “We didn’t write it up, so don’t you go telling anybody and get me in trouble, okay?”

“Promise,” said Circa.

“Okay?” said Lily to Miles. He solemnly nodded his promise too.

“Imagine that,” Lily said. “A man old as him, driving that van who knows where. It’s a wonder he made it back in one piece.”

“Did he get pulled over?” asked Circa.

“Nope. Just came on back when he got low on gas,” said Lily. “But there’ll be no more of those antics,” she said, pointing to a bell hung strategically at the top of the purple doorway. “Now we’ve got a homemade alarm rigged up for his own safety.”

Circa eyed the little brass bell. Then, without hesitation, she approached the door and knocked gently.

“Hello, Captain,” she said. “My name is Circa, and I’ve brought my friend Miles. It’s very nice to meet you.”

There wasn’t a speck of noise from the other side.

“See on your mirror there,” said Circa. “I drew that bicycle chicken when I was little, for my great-aunt Ruby. She used to live in this room.”

More silence.

“I figure he’s got him some kind of unspeakable ordeal he’s been through,” whispered Lily, shaking her head. “Imagine being a misplaced person.”

“Wow,” Circa marveled, but Miles remained unresponsive, like the foggy funk he’d waved off for Circa earlier had now settled over him.

The three of them walked the rest of the way around the circle to the lobby doors, where Circa peered around for Stanley.

“Don’t worry,” Lily said. “I made him go out back and clean the van windows to get him out of our hair.” She settled herself back at the desk. “Boy, those van windows sure have been sparkly lately,” she added.

Circa and Miles stopped and faced the blank, gray wall opposite Lily’s desk.

“Dad said the pictures were going to fill up the whole wall,” Circa said. “With bunches for each resident all mixed in with the historical Wingate pictures.”

“Stories they can reach,” said Miles.

“Exactly,” said Circa. She gazed at the vast empty space and felt intimidated by the sheer volume of the work left to be done to make the Memory Wall happen. But then those two words popped into her head again. The people. She thought about all those people behind their colored doors and her compassion flickered inside.

“My dad always said the thing that he most loved about photographs was how a good one could make one single now speak for a million thens,” she said.

Miles just stood there frozen, still focused on the center of the empty wall.

“Lily,” Circa turned and said. “Do you have any fresh old pictures for me to take back to the studio?”

Lily stopped her paperwork and puzzled at Circa.

“To restore,” said Circa. “Dad taught me how.”

“Oh my,” Lily said. “I guess I just assumed we weren’t—” Lily gave Circa a worried look. “I mean, I thought you had enough pictures to work on already,” she said. “But let me check here.”

Lily did some quick rustling around behind the desk. “Nope, no more pictures.”

“So Captain Mann didn’t have any with him?” said Circa.

“Well, come to think of it,” said Lily, “he did bring one picture with him. It appears to be from way back, but I get the feeling he wouldn’t be willing to part with it.”

“Okay,” said Circa. “But will you please let me know if you collect any more for me to work on?”

Lily hesitated, looking fretfully from Circa to the empty wall. “All right, precious,” she said. “But you just take care of Circa for a while, though, you hear me?”

“I hear,” said Circa.

As she and Miles walked out the front door, Circa noted that even her step was made lighter from the time there, but her friend’s gait was markedly heavy.

“Hey, thanks for sticking up for me with Stanley before,” said Circa, but Miles walked on with no response.

“Miles? You okay?” she said, trying to catch up.

Miles stopped. “What do you think?” he said abruptly.

“What do you mean?” asked Circa. “Didn’t you have fun?”

“At first, maybe,” he said. “But tell me, Circa. Do I remind you of somebody?”

“Sure,” she said. “I told you before, you kind of remind me of my dad a little.”

“No, I mean, from back there at Maple Grove. Who do I most remind you of?”

Circa knew the answer he was driving at, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Captain Mann.

“You know who I’m talking about,” Miles said sharply.

Circa nodded.

“So how am I supposed to feel about that?” he said. “Is that what’s next for misplaced Miles? What color door will I live behind for the rest of my life?”

“But that man probably has dementia,” she said. “That’s a whole other thing. He’s got something that won’t go away.”

“Yeah, well how come it’s been weeks and I haven’t gotten any better?” argued Miles. “I mean, what if I never snap out of this?”

Circa’s insides began to churn. She felt like such an idiot for not thinking about how going up there might affect Miles that way. So much so, she wished she could erase that part of his memory, too.

“I’m sorry, Circa, I’m not trying to be a big jerk,” said Miles. “I know you were trying to help. And that’s real nice, especially with all you’ve just been through. But it’s just I can’t help thinking…Where’s my wall full of thens? You know?”

Miles picked up a rock and skipped it across the street. “Sorry,” he said. “Sort of.”

Circa couldn’t find the right words to say. Somehow, suddenly, her own ordeal didn’t seem to tower over Miles’s ordeal quite as much. Even so, she considered how Miles probably had a family right around the corner just waiting to swoop him up and celebrate his memories all flooding back. But Dad would never be around the corner for her. No swooping. No celebrating. Still though, she couldn’t shake the sensation that she and Miles had something, maybe even something big and heavy, in common.

As the two of them silently continued their walk, Circa trailed a few feet behind Miles and felt the weight of so many big questions. Who was this boy really, and why had he come to them? Why did she feel so connected to him, so comforted by a crinkle and a crooked smile? She grew angry at herself for asking Miles if he was scared. Of course he was. It must be completely terrifying to walk around in all that blankness, even if it was temporary. She did, after all, have Mom and Nattie and a home, and memories. All he had was a dirty backpack and a sunburn.

“Aren’t you coming?” called Miles wearily over his shoulder.

Circa was surprised to see he was so far ahead, sitting on a stump waiting for her. She’d stood absolutely still right under the Wingate town-square clock without even realizing it. “Um, yeah,” she said, shaking off her trance. She looked at him as he sat there in the distance with his face in his hands and considered the mystery that was Miles. There were countless unknowns about the boy, but one truth now tugging hard at Circa: that Dad would have absolutely hated this boy’s suffering. But what would Dad have done about it? That seemed to be the most urgent question.

Then as the clock sounded the half hour loudly above her, Circa had a flash of inspiration.

“Come on,” she said, running to catch up to Miles. “I’ve got something to show you.”

Pappy Joe wasn’t fond of letting his wife’s wings hang on the clothesline for the whole neighborhood to gawk at. And little Jamie always pitched such a fit to try them on. For these two reasons, sometimes Pappy Joe would take the wings down early, while they were still damp around the edges. And every time, he would gently assure Jamie that she too would have her own pair someday.