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
“No.”
“That’s my house.”
“And Rosalind is here.”
I looked toward the little girl asleep on Gideon’s guest-room bed.
Rabbit under one arm.
He was right.
I sat.
It was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
