Chapter 9: Ms. Walmsley Knocks

By Thursday evening Chloe had slept one night in our spare room, eaten two breakfasts and missed a day of school.

I had called her father at six that morning.

He picked up on the fifth ring from a work camp in North Dakota with wind howling behind his voice.

I told him where his daughter was and that she was safe, and he was quiet for a long time.

"Lorna said she was at a friend's," he said at last. "I'll be on a plane tomorrow."

"She's welcome here until you land."

"Thank you," he said, and his voice cracked. "Is she eating?"

"She's eating."

At five-thirty the girls were at the kitchen table with their books open.

I stood at the stove and listened.

"No," Ruby said. "Don't copy mine. Say it out loud first. What are you trying to find?"

"The x."

"Right. So what's on the other side of the equals sign?"

Chloe chewed her pencil.

"Seven," she said, finally. "Seven minus three?"

"Yes. Go."

Chloe wrote a four, stared at it and lit up.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Nobody ever said it like that."

I turned the heat down and kept my face to the pan.

The doorbell rang.

I wiped my hands and went to answer it.

Ms. Walmsley stood on the porch in a long green coat with her hair coming out of its clip.

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