She could see the paths this new information would lead her down—conclusions of what may have happened if her mother hadn’t written that note. If she hadn’t walked away on her own. Two weeks had passed—none of the conclusions were good.

But for now, for right now, as she drove away, there was just one thought.

I’m not going home.

Not without my mother.

Chapter Five

Day two

I awake startled. A body lies with me.

Nestled into the curve of my abdomen, head woven under one arm and resting on top of the other as I lie on my side in fetal position.

A little girl in my arms.

She doesn’t move even after my body jolts. Even after I lift my head to see her face.

“Are you surprised?” she asks. She asks this as though I’ve just opened a gift she’s presented to me.

Breath heaves in and out from the surprise. The room is light. The bed is warm, but the air is cold against my face. Strange bed. Strange clothes. Strange house. It all floods back in.

And a dream lingers. A dream that I was holding Annie. The dream had lulled me into a state of bliss which now breeds despair.

I force myself to remain still.

“Yes!” I say. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I want to jump from this bed. I want to put on my clothes and run.

From where my head rests, I can see most of the room. And I can see that my clothes are gone from the places where I hung them to dry last night. And my purse—did I bring it into the house? Where did I leave it?

I give Alice a little squeeze but then I slide my arm out from under her head and sit up.

“I need to get some water from the kitchen,” I say.

She lets me go and I climb out from beneath the covers.

The lantern on the floor is off, or dead. My clothes are gone from every place. Every single place.

“How did you get under the covers without waking me?” I ask this with a playful tone because I don’t want her to sense the panic that grows.

She giggles and shrugs. “I’m good at sneaking,” she says.

Another smile and I make my exit. I close the door to the bedroom and walk down the hall to the kitchen. The house is dark. I try a switch but it’s dead. And that’s how the house feels with no power. Dead. I feel my heart beating in my throat. I hear my footsteps along the hard wood.

The kitchen is empty. I look farther down the hall into the living room. The part I can see is also empty. But through a window to the outside, I see the back of the truck. And blue sky.