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"Is there a rest room nearby?" I asked the secretary. "Of course. Right to your left, first door."

I picked up Drake and took him into the rest room to wash off his face. He stared at me, stared deeply into my eyes and face. I hoped he saw the love I had for him.

"Are we going home now?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, Drake honey. Home and then to a new home where nothing bad will ever touch you again."

He just continued to stare. Then he lifted his right hand, his forefinger extended, and touched the single tear that had escaped my right eye and zigzagged its way to the middle of my cheek. Suddenly, although he wouldn't accept it, he seemed to understand all that had happened.

As soon as we returned to Luke's house and I opened the car door, Drake lunged out and ran to the front door. Before we had left for J. Arthur Steine's law office, Mrs. Cotton had given me the keys to the house because she would be gone by the time we returned. Drake was surprised to find the door locked when he turned the knob. He looked back at us, a frantic desperation in his little face.

"Where's Mommy?" he asked. "Where's Daddy?"

I put the key into the lock without responding. My throat had become so tight I couldn't speak anyway. When I opened the door, he rushed into the house, calling.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

His little feet pattered on the floor as he rushed from room to room.

"Daddy! Mommy!"

His plaintive voice made my heart ache and filled my eyes with tears.

"Maybe it's not such a good idea to stay here tonight, Heaven," Logan said, coming up beside me in the doorway and putting his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe we should just go back to Atlanta and check into a hotel. We'll look around and pack whatever you want to take from this place."

"Maybe you're right," I said, my voice trembling now. "But I'm afraid of wrenching him away from all that is familiar so quickly. But maybe we can make it into a fun, exciting adventure for him." I took a deep breath to get hold of myself. Things had to be done; there just wasn't time to be mournful, and I had little Drake to think about now. I had to be strong for him. "You see if you can find any suitcases, and I'll start going through his things, taking only what's necessary. I want to buy him an entirely new wardrobe."

Logan went looking and I followed Drake back to the bedrooms. Once again he was standing in his parents' doorway, staring at the empty bed. When I lifted him into my arms, there wasn't the slightest resistance. He laid his head against my shoulder, his thumb in his mouth, and stared with glassy eyes.

"What we're going to do, Drake," I said, "is go to your room and pick out whatever you want to take with you. Then Logan and I will pack it into a suitcase, and we'll all go to a nice hotel in Atlanta. Were you ever in a hotel?"

He shook his head softly.

"Oh, you're going to like it. And we'll go to a nice restaurant. Tomorrow, we'll be going on an airplane," I said, and that perked him up. He lifted his head from my shoulder and looked at me with new interest. "You were never on an airplane?" He shook his head more vigorously this time. "Well," I said, carrying him to his room, "we're going to take an airplane ride and then get into a big car and go to the biggest house you ever saw."

"Will Mommy be there?"

"No, honey."

"Will Daddy?" His hopeful voice nearly broke my heart.

"No, Drake. Don't you remember what I told you about God calling them to Heaven?" He nodded. "That's where they are, but they'll be looking down at you and smiling because you'll be so well taken care of, okay?"

I put him down and began searching through the drawers in his dresser. Logan found some suitcases, but I picked out only enough clothing to fill one. I told Drake to choose his favorite toy to take. A few minutes later he stood in front of me holding a familiar toy fire engine. It was a Tatterton Toy, a replica of one of the first fire engines ever made, and it was constructed out of a heavy metal. The pump was actually functional. It had real little rubber tires and a steering wheel that actually turned the front wheels. It was the kind of quality toy just not sold in regular stores anymore. The little firemen, their faces rendered in actual detail, some wearing intense expressions, some smiling, were all intact. The toy had been well cared for these past years. It was the toy I had sent to him after I had first visited.

"Oh, that's a beautiful toy, Drake. Do you know where you got that toy?" He shook his head. "I sent it to you years ago. I'm glad you took good care of it and that's the toy you want to take with you. But do you know what?" I said, pulling him to me and brushing his hair off his forehead. "You're going to have a lot of toys like this, good toys, real toys." His eyes widened with interest. "You know why?" He shook his head. "Because Logan and I own a toy factory," I said. He looked amazed as I smiled to reassure him. "That's right, a toy factory. Okay," I said. "You carry that out to Logan and tell him you want to take it along." I looked around the room and then went back to Luke and Stacie's bedroom.

I decided I wanted the picture of them together in the front of the house. I wanted it for Drake, but I wanted it for myself almost as much.

"I'm making a cup of tea. Want any?" Logan called from the kitchen.

"No, thanks. See if Drake will eat anything, though, okay?"

"Sure. Hey, Drake," I heard Logan say. "Let's see what's for lunch, huh"

While they were out in the kitchen, I began to search through the dresser drawers, primarily to see if there was anything of value I should take for Drake. I found all of Stacie's jewelry, which was mostly costume jewelry, a watch that looked valuable, and some more pictures of her and Luke. In his dresser under his socks in the top drawer, I found one of Grandpa's whittled rabbits. It brought tears to my eyes as I stood there remembering him sitting in his rocker, working and talking to his imaginary Annie

Then I found something that amazed me--a Boston Globe newspaper clipping announcing my marriage to Logan. I saw where Luke had underlined the part about my being a schoolteacher in Winnerow. I sat on the bed, holding the clipping in my lap. So he had been interested in me and proud of me all the while, I thought. But why couldn't he have come to my wedding, and why didn't he ever contact me or write to me since? Now he was gone, Stacie was gone, Mrs. Cotton was gaffe; and anyway, she wasn't the kind of person who could want to answer any questions, and the lawyer was too professional and indifferent to know anything more than legal matters.