She was two, her hair done in two loose pigtails, and her white cotton socks had gone gray at the toes.

“Mama,” Lily called, stretching one sticky hand toward the wooden railing.

Vanessa didn’t slow down.

She heaved the heavy black suitcase into the open trunk and slammed the lid down with a hard metal crash that bounced off the garage wall.

“Mama, look,” Lily said again, her small voice cracking into a teary wail as she stumbled over the corner of her blanket and bumped into my work boot.

Vanessa yanked open the passenger door of the red car.