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her.”
    “I don’t think they know, ’cause if they did, they’d be nicer, and maybe she could make her some friends. Maybe I could too.”
    Frownin’, Uncle Obe leads me around the house to his garden. It’s so pretty, even if only a few flowers have got back their color
.
    “Sit here.” He lets go of my hand. “And cover your eyes while I have a speak with that rodent.”
    I wiggle onto the bench and set my basket on my lap. “I wanna see him.”
    “He won’t allow little ones to see him on Easter day, so don’t look or he won’t leave you any more eggs.”
    I put my hands over my eyes as his feet crunch away. A while later, he’s whisperin’ and the bunny whispers back. I hope they hurry so’s I can find Mama and tell her how much she sounds like the Easter bunny
.
    Finally I hear Uncle Obe’s feet again. “More eggs have been delivered for you.”
    I drop my hands, and sure enough, there are colored eggs all over the garden. I run to him and hug his legs. “Thank you!”
    He pats my head. “Go get ’em.”
    When I find the last one, Mama comes out the back door of the kitchen, wipin’ her hands on a towel. I don’t tell her about Luc or what Aunt Adele said ’cause she seems more happy now, and I don’t want her to lose her happy face
.
    She holds my hand as we walk to the front lawn, and Uncle Obe follows. The kids are still there with their mamas and daddies, and I’m glad I got my mama. She leads me to a big patch blanket, and we sit on it
.
    Mama looks over her shoulder at where Uncle Obe is walkin’ away. “Poor Obadiah,” she says like she don’t know anyone is listenin’. “I don’t think life turned out the way he expected. I know the feelin’.”
    Poor Uncle Obe. Poor Mama. But not poor Piper, ’cause I got a basketful of Jesus eggs and I’m not gonna think about the ugly things Aunt Adele said. I just hope she and Luc don’t bother us over here. “Mama?”
    “Yes?” She smiles, and I want to kiss her smile, it’s so pretty. So I do. And she laughs. I like it when she laughs
.
    “Would you say me a prayer?”
    “What kind of prayer?”
    “That everyone is nice, and anyone mean will go away so we can be happy.”
    Her eyes get wet like when she waits supper for Daddy and he don’t come, and then she closes them and prays. Not more ‘n a minute later, Aunt Adele is draggin’ that Easter egg-thievin’ cousin of mine after her, and he’s got a hand over his face and is bellerin’ like someone hit him. And Maggie is followin’. Then they’re in their car and drivin’ down the long driveway
.
    See, God does listen to my mama. Though I still got a hurt in me, I’m gonna try hard like her to be happy. “Happy…”

4

    A s the little girl’s voice drifts away, I hear the woman she became whisper, “Happy…”
    For fear of slipping into another memory, I squeeze the steering wheel hard and accelerate into the cobblestone parking area across from the entryway. I reach to cut the headlights but draw my hand back. They are the only lights on the estate, and I don’t want Uncle Obe’s gardener stumbling around in the dark, which could happen if, say, his flashlight dies.
    The minutes tick by without a sign of Axel. Did something happen? He did say the outage could be intentional…
    I pull my purse onto my lap. As I once more grip the pistol alongside the little Bible (I have got to rectify that), I scan the driveway.
Where are you?
    He likely has me worried for nothing. It probably
is
just an outage. I don’t recall seeing any other house lights when I came down that winding mess of a road, better known as Pickwick Pike.
    Correction. Bronson and Earla Biggs’s lights were on—notable because some of the lights were of the Christmas variety. “Why take ’em down?” Bronson used to defend his right to leave them up year-round. “I’ll just have to put ’em up again next year.” So if the Biggs’s lights were on…Of course, they are a mile away, and the