In Desperation

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C ora Martin was propped against two pillows in her bed when she heard a faint noise and put her book down.

Was that Tilly?

Her daughter was asleep down the hall.

No, that sounded like it came from outside.

Cora listened for half a minute. Everything was quiet. She dismissed the noise as a bird or the Bannermans’ darned cat. The clock on Cora’s night table showed the time: 12:23 a.m. She returned to her book. After reading two pages she began drifting off when she heard another strange sound.

Like a soft murmur. This time it came from a far side of the house.

What the heck is that?

Cora got up to investigate, groaning. She had to go to work in a few hours. She needed to get some sleep.

Wearing only a cotton nightshirt, she padded down the hall to Tilly’s door. It was partially open, as usual. Her eleven-year-old daughter was asleep on her stomach. One foot had escaped from the sheets. Cora moved to her bedside, adjusted it then took in the room: Tilly’s stuffed toys, posters of Justin Bieber and Cora’s favorite-the drawing of two happy stick figures holding hands, titled Mommy amp; Me.

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