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know—like what the child ate, if she had allergies, whether she slept through the night. The answers, along with detailed medical records, were in the pack of papers she had brought from Mara’s, but Mara had had weeks to peruse them. Paige did not.
    Anxiously she pictured her house. It had three bedrooms, the one on the first floor that she used herself and two upstairs. The larger of the two was stuffed with furniture that Nonny hadn’t been able to keep when she had sold her house several years before; the smaller of the two was cluttered with sewing goods, knitting goods, and all manner of medical journals that Paige had glanced through and stacked for later reading.
    The smaller room would be easier to clear out, but the larger one would be better for a child. Then again, Paige didn’t like the idea of Sami being alone on the second floor. For the time being, she could sleep in Paige’s room.
    Between Paige, Sami, and the kitten, the bedroom was filling up fast. What have I done? she wondered, and, gripping the steering wheel, tried to stay calm, which meant absolutely, positively, not thinking about what she was going to do come morning, when she had to be at work. She darted quick looks at Sami, who was sitting in the brand-new car seat Mara had bought, sending that long, soulful stare right back at her.
    “We’ll work everything out,” she assured the child and herself in what she thought was a very mommy voice. “You’re flexible. All children are flexible.” It was what she had told many a parent on the verge of panic over a new baby. “Well, I’m flexible, too, so we’ll be fine. What you need most is love, and I can give you that, yes I can. Beyond that, you’ll just have to let me know what you like and what you don’t.”
    Sami didn’t make a sound, simply stared at her with those huge eyes that had seen too much in too short a time.
    It struck Paige that maybe the child couldn’t make a sound, that maybe she had been punished for crying or had simply given up when crying had gotten her nowhere, in which case Paige was going to have to teach her that crying was healthy and, indeed, one of the few ways babies had of making their wants and needs known. The teaching would involve lots of cuddling and attention, even some spoiling. It might take time.
    Time. Oh, Lord. She couldn’t think far ahead. Not yet. “I really can do this,” she told the child as she pulled into her driveway and sprang from the car. “I’m level-headed. I’m easygoing. I’m a whiz with children.” She ran to the passenger’s side and tugged at Sami’s seat belt. “Women have instincts,” she quoted her own advice to new mothers, tugging harder when the seat belt wouldn’t come free. “They do things with and for their children that they never imagined they could do.” She put both hands to the task, pushing, tugging, twisting. “It comes from deep inside. A primordial nurturing.” She was about to go for scissors when the buckle came free with a whoosh . “See?” she breathed in relief. “We’ll do just fine.”
    For the next few minutes, while Sami watched from the safety of her car seat on the front porch, Paige ran back and forth carting baby goods into the house. When she was done, she brought Sami inside, set baby and car seat on the floor, and scooped up the kitten, which had been scampering around underfoot.
    “Sami, meet kitty.”
    The two stared at one another unblinkingly.
    Paige rubbed the kitten’s cheek to hers, then offered the tiny creature to Sami. “Kitty’s even younger than you are. She’s alone, too”—the vet had declared it a female—“so we’ll take care of her until we can find her a home. Isn’t she soft?” She touched the kitten to Sami’s hand. The little girl pulled it back. Her chin began to tremble.
    Paige immediately set the kitten down and took Sami in her arms. “It’s okay, sweetie. She won’t hurt you. She’s probably as frightened of you as you are of