Kyle, she felt sure, was a gift from God. Kyle, she knew, had been sent to replace her family. Other than him, she was alone in the world. Her father had died when she was four, she had no siblings, her grandparents on both sides had passed away. Kyle immediately became the sole recipient of the love she had to offer. But fate is strange, fate is unpredictable. Though she showered Kyle with attention, it somehow hadn’t been enough. Now she led a life she hadn’t anticipated, a life where Kyle’s daily progression was carefully logged in a notebook. Now she led a life completely dedicated to her son. Kyle, of course, didn’t complain about the things they did every day. Kyle, unlike other children, never complained about anything. She glanced in the rearview mirror.

“What are you thinking about, sweetie?”

Kyle was watching the rain as it blew against the windows, his head turned sideways. His blanket was in his lap. He hadn’t said anything since he’d been in the car, and he turned at the sound of her voice.

She waited for his response. But there was nothing.

Denise Holton lived in a house that had once been owned by her grandparents. After their deaths it had become her mother’s, then eventually it had passed on to her. It wasn’t much-a small ramshackle building set on three acres, built in the 1920s. The two bedrooms and the living room weren’t too bad, but the kitchen was in dire need of modern appliances and the bathroom didn’t have a shower. At both the front and back of the house the porches were sagging, and without the portable fan she sometimes felt as if she would bake to death, but because she could live there rent-free, it was exactly what she needed. It had been her home for the past three months.

Staying in Atlanta, the place she’d grown up, would have been impossible. Once Kyle was born, she’d used the money her mother had left her to stay at home with him.