Days passed.

Annie seemed more fragile now. Eric could sense it and so could the kids. They were around less than they used to be; even Robbie was out all the time, spending most of his time with Joy. After school Simon would go out with a few friends, always leaving out the back after clearing it with him, never with Annie. Even Matt was spending most of his evenings at the library studying. Mary stayed near the house, but she was quiet, like her mother.

Only Ruthie seemed like she had been before. If anything, she seemed happier.

That's good. Annie needs her kids to be happy.

I need Annie to be happy.

He had taken a photograph of Lucy, had made fliers, had distributed them. Hamilton had taken some to give to his parishioners, and after a few phone calls to a few colleagues Eric had managed to get them up in San Francisco and Los Angeles and Sacramento. Not many, but some. It was hard, because it wasn't a kidnapping and there wasn't much the police could do. There was the runaway hotline, too. He had called them and they were kind as he spoke to them, and they took his address and his phone number.

He told these things to Annie, and she nodded and smiled. He wondered if she had heard him.

"She's coming home, Eric," she said sometimes. "She's going to come home."

But that was all she said about it.

He was in his office at home when the phone rang.

#

Every phone call made him jump these days. Usually, of course, it was for someone else; Joy for Robbie, a friend for Simon, a study partner for Matt. Never the call he wanted, that Annie wanted.

He picked up.

"Mr. Camden?"

The voice, familiar.

"Yes?"

"It's Wilson. Mary called and left me a message. Is she there?"

Wilson. It took a few seconds to register. He and Mary had broken up. They had been engaged, and then something had happened and she had returned.

Not ready. She had returned and he had watched her and part of him had been so happy, but part of him had wondered if she had really changed. Is she ready for what the world demand?

"Just a moment," he said.

He found Mary, gave her the phone. She smiled widely and took it, pressed it against her ear. Then she disappeared upstairs.

Should I follow? Eric wondered. There was the urge to, but he suppressed it.

She's an adult. It wouldn't be right.

He went back to his office. Letting go, he thought as he sat down again. It's the hardest thing we ever do. But we have to.

How many times had he told that to people? How many times had he tried to deny he would ever have to tell it to himself? He stared at the pictures on his desk. There were more of them at the church, of course; every child, every age. Even one of Robbie. There was something about Robbie he couldn't turn his back on.

And one of he and Annie, too, smiling, his arms around her.

He hummed, remembering an old song.

"When the world and I were young, just yesterday,

"Life was such a simple game, a child could play ...."

Yelling.

He sat up with a start.

Upstairs.

He hurried.

The hallway.

Mary by the stairs. Tears in her eyes. Opposite her, Annie. The phone in Annie's hand. Annie's voice.

"I said you had enough time! We need this phone free!"

"It was Wilson! I need to talk to him!"

Eric stepped between them. He raised his hands. As he opened his mouth to speak Annie was yelling back.

"I told you about the phone! We need it free! Don't you listen?"

"Please," Eric said. "Let's calm down ...."

Mary shouted past him.

"Why? You know she won't call! Are we supposed to put our lives on hold just because Lucy ran away? Do I have to go away again to get what I want too?"

He glanced over at Annie as these words hit home. Her face was going from red to white with fury.

"You are never going!" she screamed. "You are never going away! Do you hear me? Do you hear me?"

Mary froze, then stepped back as though she had been struck. Annie was silent now, suddenly, her face still pale and her hands trembling. Eric tried to speak again but found that the words would not come. And then Annie took a step forward, then another. Mary backed away, even as Annie spoke again.

"Oh my God ... Mary .... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Here, take the phone. Please. Call Wilson back. Talk as long as you want. Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry."

She had reached Mary now, was holding her close, holding her tightly. And Annie was weeping, too, and some of the color had returned to her face, and Mary was holding her mother and looking at him as he watched them both.

Eric wondered what had happened. He watched as Annie held Mary close, then as she gave her the phone and told her to call Wilson, to call him now, that it was all right. And Mary took the phone, tentatively, as though she was waiting for another explosion, but it didn't come; Annie merely went downstairs, quietly, saying nothing.

Maybe it's a first step, Eric thought finally. Maybe she sees that she needs help.

Maybe.

* * *

Annie thought for a long time. There was a lot to think about.

Why am I so angry? Why is there always this trouble in our house?

She knew that her husband was watching her, that her children were too.

Why are they afraid? Why are they unhappy?

She began to clean the kitchen. It was an old job that never seemed to get done; when you finished there was always the next meal to just dirty it up again. But it was a good job, too, because when she did it she could think.

Why did it all go wrong? Why is life so hard to bear?

There has to be a reason.

And then it came to her.

A cause. A single cause.

So simple, really. It hadn't been before, not while she waited. But it was clear now and there was no going back. There was Mary, her child. Matt, her child. Simon and Ruthie and the twins. Her children. She had carried each of them inside her, had felt the pain and the joy at their births, had tried her best with each of them. And they were good, too. Despite all their troubles they were good, and she could forgive them. She had forgiven them, just recently, after Matt and Simon and Ruthie had appropriated the garage apartment. She had forgiven Mary when she had returned, and when Sam and David were old enough to make mistakes she would forgive them too.

One bad apple ruins the barrel.

You have to cut out an infection before it spreads. Because if it spreads, then there is no hope. Like a cancer. Remember what happened to your mother?

There is only one way to save them. It's clear to you now. No matter what you feel, no matter how hard it is, you have to do this. You have to do it despite the pain and despite the fear. It's the only way things will ever be normal again. They will all leave you and they will all hate you if you don't stop this now.

Later, Eric was there, in the bedroom, sitting. He was watching her.

"Annie," he said. "We need to talk."

She looked at him from the bed. She nodded.

"I'm worried about you," he said.

She nodded again.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't answer right away. He looked distant, like he was somewhere else.

You too? she thought suddenly. You too? My sweet husband, it's happened to you too?

"Would it help to talk to someone?" he asked.

She knew what he meant, knew it was pointless. Talking wouldn't help. But Annie was thinking now, thinking carefully. Eric was an optimist. He always saw the good, and he could be convinced that there was good somewhere even when there wasn't. He was weak. But he was worth saving because she knew that above all else, she loved him.

She loved them all.

I will do what it takes, she thought to herself.

And she nodded.

#

She had to teach the next day, and it went well. The students were all well behaved, and they all nodded as she spoke on respect as a moral duty. She gave them some reading and a short assignment and sent them on their way, then came straight home. Ruthie prattled as they drove and she smiled at Ruthie, a sincere smile because Ruthie was the strong one, the smart one. There was a lot the others could learn from Ruthie.

At home now, Annie hugged the twins and kissed them and listened to Mary tell her that they had been no trouble at all today. She hugged Mary then and apologized again, held her close, gave her some money and told her to take Ruthie out for some ice cream.

"Treat her," she said. "You two deserve some time together."

Mary smiled and accepted. She would be all right now.

After the girls were gone Annie left the twins for a few minutes and walked into Eric's office. She knew what she sought, knew just where to find it. Eric was very organized and this was very important. Pulling out the file she needed, she left the office and took a laundry basket from atop the washing machine. The twins smiled as she returned to them, following her happily as she made a sweep of the house, room to room, gathering the things she needed, one by one, into the basket.

The living room was her last stop. She set Sam and David on the couch, went to the fireplace and opened the screen. There was some ash in there, left over from last winter, but it was otherwise clean. This would work fine.

Annie took the file, opened it. She read the top of the first piece of paper there.

CERTIFICATE OF BIRTH

LUCY CAMDEN

Annie Camden brought up a match, struck it on the rough stone of the fireplace, blinked as it caught. Then she took the birth certificate from the folder and held it to the flame, holding it by the corner as she watched it burn. As she cast the burning corner into the fireplace, she looked down at the opened folder, at the records of immunizations, the old report cards, the high school diploma. And as she picked this up and reached for another match, Annie Camden looked over at the laundry basket.

She would have to take the photos out of their frames, but she knew that her family wouldn't be home for a few hours, so there was time.