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POLLY

At around one o’clock in the afternoon, while I am cleaning the dishes from lunch, I hear the knock on my front door.

I’m still feeling on edge from finding that fire in the basement. I didn’t even realize she had a lighter. I vaguely remember seeing it in her purse, and I was too stupid to take it away like I did with the phone and pepper spray. She could’ve killed us both with that little stunt. Well, I would have gotten out all right. But she and the baby likely would have perished.

And what if she had succeeded in setting off the fire alarm while her brother was here? That would have been extremely bad. She doesn’t know how close she came to making some serious trouble for me.

I’ve got to keep a closer eye on Tegan. It’s obvious she can’t be trusted alone for very long. Even stuck in the bed, she’s a troublemaker.

And now there’s someone at the door again.

Immediately, my heart skips in my chest. This can’t be anything good. Has Dennis Werner returned, having decided to investigate the noises coming from the basement? Is the police officer from yesterday back again?

I’d like to pretend I’m not home, but my Bronco is right out in the driveway. And anyway, whoever it is will certainly come back later.

I wipe my hands on my blue jeans and hurry out to the front door. I don’t see any flashing red and blue lights from my window, so that’s a good sign. Nobody’s here to arrest me for kidnapping. I check the peephole, and my heart slows down.

It’s Sadie.

I pull the door open, and she’s standing there in her threadbare coat, her dark-blond hair still in the braids that I tied for her days earlier, although mostly coming loose. I want more than anything to get this girl a decent coat. And boots. And scrub her face a bit.

“Hi, Sadie,” I say. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Hi, Polly.” She scratches at the stretch pants she’s wearing, which have a hole in the left knee. “Um, we’re out of crackers.”

It takes me a second to realize what she’s telling me. Two days ago, she said she had crackers for lunch. And today, there are no more crackers. Which means the crackers are all she’s had to eat the last two days, aside from the sandwiches I made her, and now she’s finished them.

“Come in,” I tell her. I had vowed not to let anyone else into our house, but Sadie doesn’t fall into that category. There’s no way I’m not letting this little girl inside.

Sadie follows me into the living room, a flush coming into her cheeks. “It’s so warm in here!”

It’s not that warm in our house. It’s just warm enough to be comfortable, which makes me wonder if Mitch Hambly is paying the heating bill.

I lead her straight into the kitchen, where I pour her a brimming glass of orange juice and get to work making her some lunch. I’d love to make her a nice home-cooked meal, but the poor thing is probably starving, so faster is better. I reach for the cold cuts again. Sadie likes bologna.

“Is school canceled because of the snow?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “But when there’s too much snow piled at the school bus stop, the bus doesn’t come.”

Anger surges in my chest. The school bus is obligated to pick her up one way or another—they aren’t supposed to forget about her just because of a little extra snow. And anyway, Mitch could have shoveled the area around the bus stop. I’ll have to ask Hank to do it when he gets home. I would do it myself, but I’m very reluctant to leave Tegan alone again.

I lay the sandwich down in front of Sadie, and before I can even sit down to join her at the kitchen table, she has demolished the sandwich in, like, three bites. I watch her, wondering when she last had a decent meal. I don’t even give her a chance to ask me—I grab her plate and set about making her a second sandwich.

“Do you have any more Oreo cookies?” she asks hopefully.

“But of course!” I say.

I keep the cookies in the pantry, just so I won’t be too tempted to snack on them during the day. It’s hard being home all day, and the temptation to eat my way through the boredom is strong. I finish making Sadie’s second sandwich, and then I leave the kitchen to check the pantry closet.

I don’t even really like Oreos that much, but Sadie likes them, so I always keep them stocked. I find a nearly full package of them on the third shelf, and just before I close the door to the pantry, I catch sight of that brown teddy bear again. The one clutching the red heart.

Hank was so excited when he brought home that teddy bear. His face was practically glowing when he pressed the stuffed animal into my arms. It’s for both of you. I had laughed, It’s her…or his …first gift.

Then the next day, I got my period.

I reach out and stroke the soft fur of the bear. It’s still in perfect condition—it’s never been played with, never drooled on, never had a toddler nibble on its ear. I had started to believe we’d never give that teddy bear to a child of our own.

But now it’s so close, I can taste it.

I close the pantry door, armed with the package of Oreos. I return to the kitchen to see if Sadie finished her second sandwich. I’m tempted to let her take as many cookies as she wants, but I probably shouldn’t. Two or three will be enough.

Except when I get back inside the kitchen, the seat Sadie had occupied is empty.

“Sadie?” I call out.

I step outside the kitchen, figuring she went to use the bathroom. And that’s when I notice it.

The basement door is wide open.