It was dark when a vehicle pulled up outside. After a few minutes the back door opened, and Patty got to the kitchen just as a blond girl came in and slammed the door.

“Hi. I’m Patty. I’m the night nurse who’s here to take care of your mommy. What’s your name?”

The girl took two cautious steps into the kitchen.

“It’s okay, honey. Did your daddy tell you that a nurse was coming? I’m here to make sure she takes her medication and gets better.”

The girl moved around the other side of the table, and it dawned on Patty that she was planning to dash past her. The back door opened again and a large man with greasy black hair came in. He looked at Patty for an instant before his gaze went to the girl, who turned and ran up the stairs.

“Wavy. Goddamnit, Wavy!” The man started after her, yelling, “You can’t just say something like that. What did I lie to you about?”

He thundered up the stairs, and Patty heard his footsteps and his voice overhead, but nothing from the girl. They were up there for nearly two hours, long past what should have been the girl’s bedtime. Several times, Patty considered going up to check on them, but each time, she convinced herself it was better to wait.

Eventually, the man stomped down the stairs slowly. He seemed startled to find Patty sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her. She didn’t let it bother her. Sometimes she had to fend for herself. Standing up, she held out her hand.

“Hello. I’m Patty Bruce, the night nurse that Mr. Quinn hired to take care of his wife.”

“Sorry about the ruckus. I hope we didn’t wake her up.” He shook her hand. “I’m Jesse Joe Kellen. I’m a friend of the family.”

“Is that Mrs. Quinn’s daughter?”

“Yeah, that’s Wavy. She’s a little upset.”

“It’s not unusual. Having a parent badly injured can be very troubling for children. They’re not used to seeing their parents helpless.”

He nodded and absently brought a hand to his hair to smooth down a rooster tail that stuck up on his crown.

“I’m real sorry for barging in here. Is there anything you need? I’ll be back in the morning to get Wavy, so I can bring you whatever groceries you need. And Wavy did the laundry, so there’s clean towels.”

“Do you know when Mr. Quinn is coming?”

“Well, he—he don’t actually live here. He lives down the hill. You know where you pass that other road, where there’s a couple trailers?”

“Am I to understand that Wavy will be here alone tonight?”

“Not if you’re here,” he said.

“I don’t say this to be rude, but my duties don’t include childcare.”

Mr. Kellen laughed. “Wavy don’t need a babysitter. She’ll get herself to bed, get her own breakfast. It’d be best if you didn’t bother her.”

“Bother her?”

“Just pretend she’s not here. If you hear her get up in the middle of the night, don’t come checking on her. She likes to be left alone.”

Patty was so confused, she couldn’t think of anything to say. She pushed her glasses up on her head and rubbed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. While she was doing that, Mr. Kellen walked out the kitchen door. She thought of going after him, but it seemed pointless.

After she checked on Mrs. Quinn at midnight, Patty went into the living room and lay down on what looked like a new sofa. She must have dozed, because she woke to the sound of someone in the kitchen. Looking into Mrs. Quinn’s room, Patty found her still asleep, or as close to sleep as the pain medication brought her.

For a moment, a light flashed in the kitchen, the fridge being opened and closed, but otherwise it was all darkness. Then a cupboard opened and a dish clinked softly on the countertop. Was the girl eating? At that hour? In the dark? Or was she sleepwalking?

Standing on the other side of the swing door, Patty was about to say the girl’s name, when she remembered Mr. Kellen’s cryptic warning: if you hear her get up in the middle of the night, don’t come checking on her. Wasn’t there a fairy tale with a warning like that? Beauty and the Beast? Blackbeard? After a few minutes the girl went back up the stairs and solved Patty’s dilemma.

In the morning, as Casey was arriving, the girl came downstairs already dressed. Casey said, “So, this must be Wavy. Did you two meet last night?”

“After a fashion we did,” Patty said.

From outside came the sound of a car horn. Again, Wavy slipped around the table, maneuvering her escape, and Casey and Patty followed her to the kitchen door. An old truck sat in the drive. Mr. Kellen rolled down the window and called, “I’m sorry! The bike’s gonna take a while, okay?”

Wavy stomped down the stairs and got into the truck.

“Odd little girl,” Casey said.

“You have no idea.” Patty told her everything, even though it put her an hour over her shift.

She needed to compare notes with someone, and talking with Casey every day at least convinced her that she wasn’t the only one who thought the family was strange.

According to Casey, there wasn’t much to know about the day shift. Mrs. Quinn slept most of the first two weeks, and never said anything, except to complain about the pain she was in. And to ask where her husband and her children were.

“What am I supposed to tell her? I haven’t seen her husband since he hired me, I’ve never seen her son, and her daughter comes home late every night with some big biker.”