He looked at me as though I were being ridiculous.

That Night

After the children went to sleep, the house became quiet again.

But this time, the silence didn't frighten me.

Frankie was lying beside the couch.

Kenny sat next to me.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

Finally, Kenny said:

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For not changing the locks."

I squeezed his hand.

"I should have made sure she returned the key."

He looked at Frankie.

"I never thought she'd do something like this."

"Neither did I."

That was the hardest part.

Betrayal rarely comes from strangers.

It comes from people you thought you understood.

People whose motives you assumed were safe.

People who already knew your vulnerabilities.

Kenny leaned back.

"I should have told you about the tracker."

I smiled sadly.

"Maybe."

He looked at me.

"I put it on because I was worried after the purse incident."

"I understand."

"I just didn't think we'd ever need it."

I looked at Frankie.

"Neither did I."

The Question My Son Asked

Before going to bed, Laurence came downstairs.

He was holding his stuffed rabbit.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Is Grandma coming back?"

I looked at Kenny.

Then back at my son.

"Not for a while."

"Why?"

I knelt beside him.

"Because sometimes adults make choices that hurt people."

He thought about that.

"Did Grandma hurt Frankie?"

I didn't want to lie.

"She made a bad choice."

"Is Frankie okay?"

"Yes."

He hugged Frankie.

"Good."

Then he whispered into Frankie's ear:

"Don't go away again."

Frankie lifted his head.

His tail thumped once.

Laurence smiled.

"See?"

"He understands."

I kissed my son's forehead.

Maybe he did.

The Next Morning

The next morning, I expected Frankie to be tired.

He was.

But he was also hungry.

He followed me into the kitchen.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like he always did.

I filled his bowl.

He ate.

Then he walked to the back door.

I opened it.

He stepped into the sunlight.