Maybe more than she should have allowed herself.

The day she left Tim, she drove around for hours before finally ending up at her mother’s, who asked questions that Therese ignored. Partly because she was tired, but mostly because she didn’t really have any answers.

That first night, she and Matilda slept together in her childhood bedroom, and they made a bed for Franny inside a dresser drawer. The days passed, and, even though it was hard, she enjoyed the simplicity of taking care of a baby, watching as her mouth opened the moment a bottle was near and the way her skin smelled after a bath. Mostly she liked how Matilda helped take care of Franny and how effortlessly they settled into their new lives.

She called Leah once a week, but Leah never answered. She sent letters that always came back unopened. Soon weeks and then months passed, and she stopped reaching out to Leah. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt relieved. The way that Matilda cared for and protected Franny made Therese feel as though she had delivered on her promise that night in the car.

There was just one nagging fear that crept up on her, mostly at night.

She kept expecting him to show up or to call. She spent hours devising her plan, rehearsing her words, and sometimes she would stare out the window, convinced someone was out there watching, but she was never sure. The more time passed, the more relaxed things became. And then one day, without realizing the moment when it happened, they became a family.

Her mother finally stopped asking questions and just enjoyed having the house full of children that she had always wanted. Matilda and Franny were inseparable, and except for when Franny’s hair curled like Leah’s or when she would draw in her sketchbook, Therese forgot the real reason they had all ended up together. There was no question that she had grown to love the little girl, but she should have been more careful. Maybe if she had listened to her instincts and not gotten so comfortable, she would have been able to anticipate the moment when everything would change.

It was Franny’s ninth birthday, and Therese had just finished wrapping presents and was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, and there it was.

Barking at her. Taunting her.

The obituary she never expected to see sent her into a tailspin. There was a photo, too, but it was dark and blurry and the size of a dime. She wanted to lick her finger and rub it out like a spot of dirt, but she couldn’t and she didn’t and now Barbara was dead and Tim was free.

Free to come and find them.