Where cold frost had covered the concrete walk six months before, when Arthur and Julian tried to push me out into the garage, green grass now ran all the way to the curb.

Bright yellow irises and purple grape hyacinths bloomed in the freshly turned soil along the walk.

I sat down on the cedar garden bench Thomas had put in beside the porch steps.

Clara opened her dark eyes and watched the green maple leaves stir gently in the spring breeze above us.

I tucked the edge of her blanket snugly around her little body and held her warm against my chest, looking out at the driveway where Captain Keller’s transport vehicles had pulled in that winter morning.

“We’re safe now, Clara,” I whispered into her soft dark hair.