“Here, Teddy.” Mommy’s touch was soft on my head, but I gasped and started as if she had hit me. She put something into my hand and after a moment of sun blindness I saw what it was. The little cat seemed to arch her back in pleasure against my palm.

The rush of gladness was so strong it actually felt like pain. I stroked her with a finger. “Oh,” I said, “kitty, kitten!”

“Do you like it?” I could hear the smile in Mommy’s voice.

“I love her,” I said. “I’ll take care of her so good.” Worry ran through my enjoyment like a vein. “Was it expensive?” I knew that we were poor right now, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to know.

“It is all right,” she said. “Do not worry about that, for goodness’ sake. Are you going to name her?”

“She’s called Olivia,” I said. To me the name was classy and mysterious, exactly right for the wooden cat.

This small extravagance seemed to lift everyone up. I played with Olivia and I didn’t care anymore what other people thought about us. Mommy hummed, and even Daddy smiled and did his funny walks, pretending to trip over his own shoelaces and fall down in the sand.

Mommy’s rule was always to get the most out of a trip, so we dawdled until almost everyone else had gone. The shadows lengthened and the hills began to eat the sun. Bats were darting through the dusk by the time we left. The car was a furnace, holding all the heat of the day. Daddy had to cover the scalding seats with a towel before I could sit down in back. I put Olivia carefully in my pants pocket.

“I will drive,” Mommy said gently to Daddy. “You did it this morning. Fair is fair.”

Daddy touched her face and said, “You are a queen among women.”

She smiled. Her eyes still held that distant look. It was years later that I noticed she never let Daddy drive after noon, after he started drinking from the coffee Thermos and doing the funny walks.

The car rumbled through the coming night and I felt happy. Everything was gentle, inside me and out. Only children can feel that kind of safety; I know that now. I must have drifted off because waking was like a slap to the head, shocking and sudden.

“Are we home?” I asked.

“No,” Mommy said.

I raised my head sleepily and looked out. By the beam of the headlights I saw that we were pulled over on the side of a dirt road. There were no people or sidewalk or other cars. Great ferns like ostrich feathers grazed the windscreen. Beyond that were the sounds and scents of trees talking, night insects making sounds like tick, tick, tick.

“Did we break down?” I asked.

Mommy turned around and looked at me. “Get out, Teddy.”