“Okay, wake me up when he gets here,” I said, and Digger walked out the door. I pulled the musty quilt up over my shoulders and melted into the mattress, closed my eyes, and ignored the creaky springs beneath me. My heavy head sank into the pillow, my mouth fell open, and I caught myself snore. I rolled over and fell into a deep and blissful sleep. I was gone.

When I woke up, I didn’t recognize the wall or the quilt or the dirty window with cracked glass and spiderwebs in the corners. The glow of the oil lamp made angled shadows on the log walls. I must have overslept; where was I? I must have been out for a while but had no idea how long. I sat up and looked around, remembering, oh, yes, I was in the cabin. There was the rocking chair, my clothes on the floor, and what about Digger? Digger must have gone for a smoke but forgotten to wake me. Did the guy come to jump the truck? He must have been here and gone. If only I could see what time it was. I squinted at the dirty window. Dark outside, but in winter it could still be early evening. I guessed it was about five or six o’clock. So if the baby was asleep, then it had been a long nap and was time for a feeding. I looked for the baby carrier. We’d left it beside the bed, but where was it? Where was it? Not there. And the baby! Where was she?

I jumped out of bed, and my legs buckled. Dizzy, I grasped the bed frame to get my head straight. I looked in the crate. No! I stumbled to the front door, blinking. The truck was gone. No sign of Digger. The car seat was nowhere in sight.

The baby was gone.

I opened the front door. A gas can in the snowbank beside the spot where the truck had been. I pulled on my boots and ran outside to the outhouse and the shed. I ran a few steps down the hill, but everything was dark and empty. Bluish white surrounded by black evergreen trees. Shadows of tire tracks led back to the highway, but no sign of the truck or Digger or the tow truck or anyone.

“Digger!” I called down the driveway and into the woods.