Elsa was clasping Licia’s hand, trying hard not to cry. “The holes in your ears closed up,” she said very quietly. “Did you stop wearing earrings?”

Licia seemed to hesitate. Her smile seemed to break; it faded from her face. There was something constrained about her gaze, something apprehensive and lost. Her right hand broke free from her mother’s. Her thumb brushed her right ear, then her nose, then her left ear. An involuntary gesture, strangely nervy. She seemed to catch herself doing it; her smile returned; she took both her mother’s hands in hers.

“Were you safe, at least?” said Elsa.

“I said that, Mum. Always. They took good care of me.”

Vee returned, carrying a glass of orange juice and a plate stacked with cold pizza.

“Man,” said Vee, “the police are going to freak when they see you. Those guys are completely convinced you are dead.”

Licia stared at her sister. She gave a half smile. “I didn’t eat pizza for a year. Can you believe that?”

“I can fetch you some toast instead. Or anything. What do you want?”

“No,” said Licia. “Cold pizza is perfect. This is all perfect.” And her smile could have lit up a room.

And so Vee sat, watching Licia eat her cold pizza, and Licia smiled at Vee, and Vee smiled back, and I began to wonder if perhaps we could be a happy family once more. And Elsa led me into our bedroom and I very quietly shut the door, and we argued in hushed whispers about when to take our daughter to the police. I was certain that now was the time. But Elsa could see, she said, that our daughter was in the most fragile state, and she convinced me to wait a few hours. “If she left us again, Cal, how would we ever find her?”

Thirty-Six

At seven Licia fell asleep on the living room sofa, her arms folded across her chest. Elsa tucked her in with a light quilt, though the day was already hot.

At seven-thirty Franklin padded out of his crib and into the living room. He took one look at his sister and screamed.

“Hey, buddy,” I said. “It’s your sister Licia. She’s home, Franklin.”

“Banda,” said Franklin, pointing at a small scrape on Licia’s hand, eyes wide. “Banda.”

Vee fetched a Band-Aid, which she opened and handed to Franklin. Franklin reached out and half stuck the Band-Aid to Licia’s hand. He smiled. “Banda banda.” Licia did not stir.

I carried Franklin’s high chair through from the kitchen. We threw open the windows and the door to the terrace so we could watch Licia as we ate. Elsa, Vee, and I drank coffee, seated on the edge of the planter, while in his high chair Franklin sucked a smoothie from a plastic pouch. From time to time we would catch each other’s eye, and we would all grin.