“You look like her,” he said. His face was flushed with longing that had nowhere to go. “Something about you—your hair and the way you walk. I can’t put my finger on it,” he said. “But you remind me of Daisy.”

Chapter Twenty-five

Day sixteen

Mick wakes soon after Alice tells me about the end that is coming. I fear that my quick, shallow breaths have shaken the bed. Some things must find their way out of the body. Some things cannot be contained. This fear that stirred from Alice’s warning was like that. Too big to hold inside.

I feel the hand that weighs heavily on my hip squeeze my flesh. It does not feel intentional, and it pulls away quickly as if consciousness has suddenly taken over. I wonder if he was dreaming about his wife. Alice’s first mommy. I wonder if they used to lie in bed like this and if he used to wake with his hands on her body and then fall into the physical pleasures of touch. Maybe more. Maybe they made love while Alice lay beside them, still asleep. Pretending to sleep. Maybe they went to another room to be alone.

Or maybe the first mommy tried as I now do, to lie perfectly still even as the air rushes in and out. Feeling nothing but the fear.

He moves out of the bed. He does not kiss Alice or give her a hug. Instead, he scoops her into his arms and carries her out of the room. He does this quickly as though wanting to remove himself from me.

I am relieved. I am despondent.

Yes, leave.

No, come back.

Want me. Desire me. Let me be enough. Don’t leave this house and find my daughter.

I do not move. I do not turn my head. I simply feel the arms slide across me until they are gone, and then the bed gets lighter behind me, and then the floorboards creak as he walks.

There is whispering outside the room.

Then the sound of the metal grate closing. Metal on metal as the key turns the lock.

I hear little feet stomping. A high-pitched voice whining. Alice is not happy about the locked grate.

The front door opens and closes. I hear a car in the driveway. Not the truck engine like before. It has been three days since I heard the truck. Not being able to see outside has made my hearing perceptive.

The car is light on the gravel. Turns with ease. I imagine it’s small. From there, I am out of guesses. I do not know this man. Mick. I do not know if he would drive a sports car or a fuel-efficient smart car. I don’t know if he’s rich or poor or where he goes all day and now most of the night.