My Neighbor Knocked in the Rain and Told Me to Take My Granddaughter Across the Street—From His Window, I Watched My Own Son Enter My House

Who stays.

Who speaks.

Who leaves the porch light off when danger is watching.

Who crosses the street in the rain.

EPILOGUE — THE HOUSE ACROSS THE STREET

Years after that October night, I still sometimes wake during heavy rain.

For one second, I am seventy again.

Rosalind is eight.

Gideon is standing at my door.

Ten o’clock feels like a deadline between two different lives.