I had driven children to birthday parties, delivered forgotten lunches, searched for missing library books, and once transported a science project involving a bean plant that looked as though it had survived a natural disaster.
I never kept track of any of it.
If I could help someone without causing too much trouble, I believed I should.
My husband used to joke that our house was the neighborhood emergency department.
“If somebody’s child sneezes three streets away, you’ll probably be the one bringing them tissues,” he told me once.
I laughed because I thought he was exaggerating.
Looking back, he was probably the only person who understood how often I put everyone else’s needs ahead of my own.
There had been little warning signs with Vanessa.
One Friday morning, Sophie didn’t appear at 7:20.
I waited five minutes, then sent Vanessa a message.
A few seconds later, she replied.
