The first thing Peter Calder saw was his six-year-old nephew crawling toward his porch with one leg dragging uselessly behind him.
The second thing he saw was three-year-old Lily gripping the back of Drew’s shirt, stumbling every few steps before dropping to her knees and getting up again.
The screwdriver slipped from Peter’s hand and struck the porch boards.
For almost an hour he had been trying to repair a loose hinge on his front door.
The job should have taken ten minutes, but his concentration kept wandering toward memories of his younger brother Aaron.
Aaron used to sit on that same porch drinking root beer, laughing too loudly and claiming Peter could turn every household repair into a major engineering project.
Aaron had been dead for three years.
A heart attack at thirty-five.
One ordinary Tuesday morning, one ambulance, one impossible phone call.
Peter had spent the years since then believing the worst thing that could happen to Aaron’s family had already happened.
He was wrong.
“Drew?”
Peter jumped down the steps.
Drew’s face was gray beneath the dirt.
His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
His right leg remained stiff behind him, twisted enough that Peter’s stomach tightened immediately.
Lily’s cheeks looked hollow.
Peter dropped beside them.
“What happened?”
Drew raised his head.
His lips were cracked.
“She locked us downstairs again.”
Again.
Peter felt the word like a blow.
“Who did?”
Drew looked frightened by the question.
“Reena.”
Reena Mercer had married Aaron when Drew was two and Lily was only months old.
Their biological mother had died from complications after Lily’s birth, and Aaron had remarried sooner than Peter thought wise.
Still, Reena had seemed patient in the beginning.
She attended preschool events.
She packed lunches.
She posted smiling family photographs.
After Aaron’s death, she stood beside his grave holding both children and told Peter she would make certain they never forgot their father.
Peter had believed her.
He had tried to remain close afterward.
For the first few months, he visited every weekend.
Then Reena began canceling.
Drew had a fever.
Lily was sleeping.
The children became emotional whenever Peter visited because he reminded them of Aaron.
Eventually Reena told him bluntly that his presence was interfering with their ability to heal.
Peter hated the decision, but he backed away.
He still sent birthday presents and called.
Sometimes Reena answered.
Usually she said the children were busy.
Now those same children had arrived on his porch looking as though they had escaped from somewhere no child should ever have been.
Peter lifted Lily first.
She was frighteningly light.
Then he returned for Drew.
“I’m going to pick you up.
Tell me where it hurts.”
Drew pointed at his lower leg.
Peter slid one arm beneath his back and another beneath his knees, supporting the injured limb as carefully as possible.
The boy bit his lower lip until a bead of blood appeared.
He never screamed.
That frightened Peter more than screaming would have.
Inside, Peter placed them on the couch and wrapped blankets around both children even though the house was warm.
Lily saw a package of crackers on the coffee table.
She reached for it with both hands.
“Easy,” Peter said.
But she had already stuffed several crackers into her mouth.
Drew touched
