Dan sighs as he hears that story conclude in a girl's death. He remembers wondering about what-could-have-beens with his siblings. He remembers those hypotheticals torturing him at night, wondering if they had gotten to live, if they would have rediscovered any of the joy in their lives. He feels like he didn't, most of the time. He got to live and joy became a fleeting, ephemeral thing.

He didn't rediscover joy, he doesn't think. He just turned all his hobbies and skills into ways to stay busy, and that's as close as he gets. Staying busy.

"I ain't at any risk of losing my love for working with my hands," he says. He pushes away from the table to give Jennifer some space at the workdesk. "If you want, I'd love to could see what kind of sewing you can do. Maybe we might could work on something together."