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could say about Tock, she could never criticize her parenting skills. Tock seemed to be the perfect mother—creative, fun, patient, firm, and always seeming to know the right thing for Suzy.

    Tock had moved in with Peter just after graduating from high school and, soon after, announced she was pregnant. Everyone thought they were foolish—too young to start a family. And there went Tock’s chance at college, and her so smart! But Tock hadn’t wanted college: she wanted Peter and a baby and to build her own house in the woods. She never seemed to have a moment of regret.

    Tock leaned over and grabbed a beer from the table beside the tub. She was between Rhonda and Peter in age, one year older than Rhonda and two younger than Peter, and was in better shape than both of them. She wore her hair cropped short, a tight little chestnut-colored cap—she had, Rhonda thought, the bone structure to pull it off. Peter wore his shoulder-length curly blond hair back in a ponytail. At twenty-six, Peter had the look of a man descending quickly into middle age. His hairline was receding and he’d developed a potbelly. He was looking more and more like Daniel every day. All that was missing was the mustache.

    Neither Peter nor Tock liked it when Daniel’s name came up, and as a general rule, Rhonda tried to keep him out of conversations. But that night, lulled by the hot water, steak, and beer, by the way her knees bumped against Peter’s, she couldn’t help herself.

    “So seeing the rabbit today reminded me of that Easter…remember? When Daniel dressed in the rabbit suit and we were all chasing after him in the woods, looking for eggs.”

    Tock narrowed her eyes. Peter stared down into the neck of his beer bottle.

    “I’m gonna go get some weed,” Tock announced, jumping out of the tub, steam rising off her lean flanks. Tock grabbed her robe and went through the sliding glass doors into the house.

    Rhonda took in a breath, relieved to be alone with Peter but a little panicked by it, too.

    She leaned back, her head resting against the edge of the wine cask, her eyes fixed on the stars.

    “So do you remember it? You stole the head of his costume and he chased you all over the dining room.”

    “No,” Peter mumbled solemnly. He reached over to get a cigarette from the pack on the table.

    “We followed the rabbit through the woods looking for eggs full of clues.” Rhonda glanced over at Peter and searched his facefor some sign of recognition. There was none. She leaned back against the wall of the tub, closed her eyes, and let the images of that Easter continue to come.

    “Lizzy was last to find her basket,” Rhonda said, “and when she finally came back into the yard, she was riding high up on the rabbit’s shoulders, swinging her basket, playing with his ears.” She opened her eyes and looked over at Peter. “How can you not remember any of that?”

    He shook his head and said only, “It was a long time ago.”

    They were quiet a minute, Peter staring down into his empty bottle, turning it in his hand like a kaleidoscope while he smoked his cigarette. Rhonda studied his face, trying to imagine the way it had looked that Easter so long ago, searching for a trace of the boy she’d run through the woods with, chasing after the elusive rabbit. She thought of Peter’s sister, Lizzy, whom, like Daniel, they hardly mentioned anymore. She remembered Lizzy and Daniel straggling into the yard, the last to return from the woods that Easter. Looking back, Rhonda thought perhaps it had been a sign, an omen, showing that one day they would both be gone, as if they’d walked into the woods for the egg hunt and never come back.

    “I’m sorry I brought it up,” Rhonda said. “It’s just that I’d forgotten all about it until this afternoon. It’s not every day someone sees a huge white rabbit.”

    “Or a kidnapping,” Peter added, leaning over to stub out his cigarette, seeming relieved at the chance to change the subject. He still didn’t look her in