“I don’t understand,” said Lucy, casting a quick glance at Randy, who sat busy with his task, not bothered by anyone.

“I like to think I give ‘em something to remember, right? They might forget everything else about the carnival where they saw me, but I don’t think many of ‘em will ever forget me. I look like a human wind-up toy, right? Sure, some of ‘em might laugh at me, but believe it or not, most of them don’t. Most of them are little ladies and gentlemen. I also give their parents a little something, as well. They can remind the kids how damn lucky there are to be whole and healthy and not ‘like that man at the carnival.’” Another shrug. “Don’t mind it a damn bit.”

Randy came back over, handing the “pen” and quiver back to Thalidomide Man.

“You got fifteen rocking horses,” said Randy proudly.

“That a fact? Well, this’s a good day for me—I thought I only had eleven left. Thank you, son. I think your work ought to be rewarded, don’t you?”

Randy looked shyly from him to Lucy, who nodded her head.

“I guess so,” Randy said.

Thalidomide Man reached into his quiver and came out with a carved figure very much like the one Sarah had named “Misserhands,” but something in Lucy’s face told him this was not a good choice, so he dug around until he came up with a figure of an astronaut. “How’s this?”

“Aw, that’s so cool! A spaceman!” Randy gave a radiant smile and accepted it, but Thalidomide Man insisted that Randy take one of each figure—including that of Misserhands.

Lucy took Randy’s hand and thanked Thalidomide Man and began to leave.

“Hey, ma’am?” called Thalidomide Man.

Lucy turned. “Yes?”

“I assume that our discussion will remain private?”

“Yes.”

They started away again, and again Thalidomide Man called after her.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

A pause, then: “How’s your little girl?”

Lucy couldn’t say anything, so Randy said it for her: “She died.”

A few minutes later they were back in the car and moving again.

Chapter Ten

The cabin was located in the Waretown woods of New Jersey. Lucy was never really sure if this area was considered part of the Pine Barrens or not, but judging from the overwhelming stands of Atlantic white cedar, sour gum, and red maple that began to swallow the car as she drove along, she supposed the point was moot.

It was a little after six-thirty in the morning. The first official snow of the season had begun falling last night, and the area surrounding the cabin looked like something torn from one of those “Winter Wonderland” calendars and given full life.

She and Eric used to come up to this cabin at least twice a year while they were married; those visits increased after Sarah turned two: she’d loved the short canoe trips they’d take in the river nearby, or those quick, one-day excursions to Wells Mills County Park to the south. In the winter when they came here, Sarah loved to build as many snowmen as possible; the bigger, the better.