By six o’clock that evening, the dark winter shadows had swallowed the front yard on Maple Lane.

Lucy sat at the little wooden kitchen table, humming quietly as she drew a big yellow sun on a clean sheet of paper.

Evan stood at the counter beside her, slicing fresh carrots into neat orange circles for a pot of vegetable soup.

The red plush rabbit with the squashed left ear sat on the corner of the table by Lucy’s elbow.

I walked down the back hall to my home office and pulled open the bottom drawer of the metal filing cabinet.