Rose looked up at us as we entered the kitchen. “Ah, Megan, so happy to see you.”

“You too, Mrs. Pierce,” Megan said.

“You’re in my home, Megan. You can call me Rose.” She turned to me. “Megan will be joining you today as you watch the children.”

Megan might not have known it herself, but I understood immediately she was actually there to watch me. I reminded myself that this was an outcome of my own making. How could I blame Rose for not trusting me with her children now? Or ever again, for that matter.

“We are diligent in our home, so please pay attention,” Rose said to Megan, reaching for a leather-bound book in the cabinet. I could see uncertainty spark in the girl’s eyes. The book contained a long list of rules that Rose would expect her to memorize immediately. I only half listened as Rose read through each rule and gave detailed examples.

Rules about what they could eat, what they could drink: Particular snacks would be prepared for the children. The water must be boiled for purity and then cooled in the fridge. They weren’t allowed anything outside the home that wasn’t approved.

Rules about the weather: There were approved times of day, depending on the strength of the sun, when the children could be outside as long as specified amounts of sunscreen were used. If it looked like it might rain, the children were to stay inside until any chance of a storm passed. In the event of rain, the children could not be taken outside until the ground dried.

Rules about activities: Approved playtime activities were listed, but they could only play after all required reading and chores had been completed. Running, roughhousing, teasing, tickling, screaming, and too much pretend play were not encouraged, either inside or outside the house.

Rules about how they should appear, rules about how they should speak, rules about how they should interact with others, rules about their daily schedules. On and on, the leather book revealed the rules I knew too well. Rules I’d made sure to enforce, rules I myself considered instilling in my own children in order to provide the safest care possible. Rose loved her children fiercely and showed that love by making sure they were always protected from anything that might harm them.

That potential for harm now included me.

Nausea rolled inside my gut, not the kind spawned by nerves but by illness. I hoped I wasn’t catching whatever afflicted Andrew.

“I understand it’s a lot of information,” Rose said, “so if you have any questions, ask Grace.” She offered Megan a perfunctory smile. “Are we clear?”

Megan clearly had many questions, but she nodded. “Ask Grace.”

“If you must.” Rose faced her three children, all now seated around their kitchen table. “Walk your mother to the door, will you?”