"Two out of three," Lia remarked, still staring at the lines of his older brothers, then Charlie's in particular, before shifting her gaze to Fred's line, which happened to be the crux of the bend, the deepest line--but it grew deeper as the crease extended towards the back of his wrist. Deep and unyielding.
She took his left hand and bent that back; it didn't go as far back as the other, and despite seeing his mother's clear and immutable influence, it was his brothers and sisters that were a stronger presence. Which meant that she should start here on his right hand. "I know you want to know about your life without him, but you have to know, from the very start, that Fred isn't gone." She bend his right wrist again and gently drew her index fingernail along that deep crease. "His influence began before you even knew it, and even without him--" She bend his wrist the other way, and there, that crease appeared, connecting with the other bend, "--he's there. It's not a question of a life without Fred. It's a question of, How do you live a life with what he's left behind."