It didn’t take more than a moment to realize that the creaking noise had come from the rocking chair. Bonnie’s eyes were closed, and Hannah approached quietly. “Bonnie?” she said softly. “It’s Hannah. I brought you some soup because Danielle said you were sick.”

Bonnie’s eyes opened. They appeared huge and unfocused. “Hannah?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes. It’s me, Bonnie. Would you like me to heat you some soup? Michelle made it.”

Bonnie’s expression changed to one of puzzlement. “Michelle?” she asked.

It was clear that Bonnie was not in control of her faculties, and Hannah proceeded carefully. “Michelle is my youngest sister. It’s Hannah, Hannah Swensen. You recognize me, don’t you, Bonnie?”

“Oh, Hannah. Of course I recognize you. But what are you doing here? It’s a school day. Why aren’t you in class?”

Something was wrong, very wrong, and Hannah knew it. Bonnie was either drugged or still half asleep because the normally cognizant woman that Hannah admired was slipping in and out of reality. Perhaps it would be best to stick with everyday questions at first.

“Are you hungry?” Hannah asked.

“I . . . I don’t know. I could be, I think.”

“All right then. I’ll go heat the chicken soup that I brought.” Hannah stopped and evaluated Bonnie’s blank expression. “Is that all right, Bonnie?”

“Oh, yes. It’s fine. Gil should be home and he’ll be hungry. He always comes home for lunch on school days.” Bonnie stopped and took a deep breath. “This is a school day, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I’ll be right back, Bonnie.”

“Oh, good. I like you, Hannah, but don’t interfere. Never interfere in anything that doesn’t concern you. My mother told me that, and it was some of the best advice I ever got. I just wish I’d followed it sooner.”

Bonnie smiled once, and then her expression faded again to a perfectly blank stare. It reminded Hannah of teddy bears in an arcade booth, waiting to go home with their lucky winners. “Are you sure you’re okay alone?”

“I’m always alone. Everyone is. We’re born alone and we die alone. It’s a fact of life.”

Hannah shivered. Bonnie’s voice was devoid of inflection, almost like the recorded voice of the time of day on the telephone. “I suppose you’re right, Bonnie,” she said, attempting to smile as she went off to the kitchen to heat the soup.

It only took two minutes to heat the soup in the microwave. Hannah found a soup bowl in the cupboard and returned to the den. “Here you are, Bonnie,” she said, placing the bowl and spoon on the table next to Bonnie. “This should make you feel better.”

“Nothing will make me feel better until I go,” Bonnie said, not even reaching out for the soup. “She was my daughter, you know.”