I leaned against the kitchen counter as Byron shrugged his shoulder in response to my question. I was beginning to get used to his blond hair and the shape of his nose. The old Neal had been hit in the nose when he was younger, making it wider and less defined. The plastic surgeons had straightened as well as thinned it. Remarkably, it gave him a completely different look. What would never change were his green, almost golden, eyes. I don’t know what I would have said if they’d talked about changing our eye color.

Probably nothing.

It wasn’t like we had a voice in what was done.

They’d even put veneers on our teeth, giving our mouths a different shape.

Three years ago when it all happened, we both lost days, maybe a week. Much of the surgery, oral and facial, was done while we were under anesthesia. We literally woke as new people.

Sometimes it was easy to forget, to fall into the routine our lives had become. It was as if we had awakened into a fairy tale in suburban America, the nearly perfect family. We didn’t have the 2.5 children, only one, our Renee. Yet last year we’d added a gray kitten to our family. Renee named him Kitty. It wasn’t the most masculine name for our tomcat, so we added a mister to the front. Mr. Kitty came to his name as readily as the three of us had adapted to our new names. Most importantly, Renee adored him. And even though he was a big cat, he tolerated her affection to a fault.

Yes, I could slip into the security brought on by our new names and lives.

And then something would happen, something seemingly innocuous that would set my heart to racing and bring a cold layer of perspiration to my skin. Today it was a man who came to our door, saying that he was doing a survey for the next census.

At first, I was fine, no alarms sounded, until Renee came running up behind me and peered up at him from the safety of behind my legs. Though the screen door was between us, my pulse sped up as the man smiled, a smile that twisted my stomach into knots. He lowered himself to his haunches and spoke directly to Renee.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

She looked up at me with her chocolate eyes as I shook my head no.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said. “You can talk to me. Your mommy was talking to me.”

I ran my hand over her soft, silky hair. I’d pulled what little bit she had back into two pigtails, reminding me of the youngest child on a show I watched as a kid. We teasingly called her Cindy when her hair was like that, me for the daughter on the Brady Bunch and Byron because he thought it made her look like Cindy Lou Who from Dr. Seuss, some of her favorite books for us to read.

I tucked her behind me. “We’re teaching her not to speak to strangers,” I said, my neck straightening as I stared down at the man still staring at our daughter.

Finally, when she wouldn’t answer, he stood back up to his height. “She sure is pretty, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I believe we’re done with your survey.”

He looked down at his clipboard. “Just the three of you living here?”

“And Mr. Kitty,” Renee said in her sweet three-year-old voice.

He bent back down. “You have a kitty?”

Renee nodded. “That’s his name.”

“Kitty is your cat’s name?”

She nodded again, once more moving to behind my legs.

He stood tall again. “I believe, Mrs. Marsh, that does it for now.”

I started to take a step and close the solid door when he paused. “You all stay safe.”

My stomach twisted, knots on top of knots, as my hands shook as I fumbled with the solid door and lock. Trying not to alarm Renee, I casually walked about the house. Door by door, I moved until I’d confirmed each outside door was secure.

“Mommy, Mr. Kitty is out there,” Renee said, pointing to the backyard. “Memeba, you let him outside?”

I peered beyond the taut white curtain obstructing the windows on our back door. Sure enough, sprawled out on the back deck, lying in the sun, was Mr. Kitty. I told myself he’d be all right. The backyard was fenced, a six-foot-tall wooden fence, and the gates were always closed and locked.

“Go get him,” she said, her eyes pleading. “I don’t wants him outside with that man.”

I looked again at the deck. Mr. Kitty hadn’t moved. Steeling my neck and shoulders, I unlocked and opened the door. Mr. Kitty’s head turned my way as my gaze scanned the yard beyond the deck to Renee’s swing set and sandbox. “Come on in, Mr. Kitty,” I said, talking to him while watching. As I reached down to lift him, I saw it out of the corner of my eye. The side gate was open wide.

Carrying Mr. Kitty and shooing Renee back into the house, I again locked the door.

“Why did you say you didn’t want him with that man?” I asked, wondering what she’d seen.

“‘Cause he was a stranger.”

That didn’t answer my question though I hesitated to push, to alarm her in any way.

Now, I was here with Byron, wanting him to share in my alarm, as Renee was in the living room singing and dancing to one of her Disney sing-along videotapes.

He shrugged again. “I don’t know, Josey. I might have left it open after mowing the yard.”

“You never leave it open. What if Mr. Kitty had gotten out?”

“I don’t have an answer.” He reached for my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “I understand why you worry, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

I lowered my voice. “Do you know that? Have you talked to Mr. Sparrow?”

“No, Neal Curry is dead to the outfit. I can’t just call him. You know we have very specific instructions on sending information on Renee. I can’t just show up at Sparrow Enterprises. Remember, I also walked out on my job there. I’d be shot if I approached the house.”

“What if that man was Sparrow’s?”

“Then he saw what he was supposed to see. Renee is still here. So are we. We’re doing as we were told.”

“I don’t like it. Maybe we could get away sooner rather than later?” I asked.

“We need to save money. I’m doing that, but it takes time.”

“What if Mr. Sparrow knows about the money? What if that man was a warning?” I stood straighter. “He told us to stay safe. Who does that?”

“Maybe a kind gentleman who wants people to stay safe.”

“I saw McCrie on the news the other day. He’s back to working for McFadden.”

Byron shook his head. “Baby, that life is over for us. Don’t fixate on it.”

“I still don’t understand why if McCrie works for McFadden, if his sister is married to Rubio, why McCrie would arrange for Allister Sparrow to watch over his daughter.”

Byron opened the refrigerator and took out a beer. “When’s dinner?”

I closed my eyes. “Think about it.”

“I have,” he said through a clenched jaw. “I’ve spent three years thinking about it.”

“And what have you decided?”

“Maybe he didn’t ask for Sparrow’s help.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The paper said that...” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “...they announced the death of their child. Maybe neither McCrie nor his wife know she’s alive.” He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“McCrie was at the hospital. I think he knew.”

“You went to the hospital? Why haven’t you ever told me?” His hand went to his hair. “Oh my God, Josey, what if Sparrow would have found out.”

“He’s the one who sent me.” I shrugged. “One of his people. I was supposed to get Renee. I couldn’t imagine giving up a child. I had to talk to the mother.” Tears came to my eyes. “She didn’t know. I wanted to tell her the truth so badly, to ease some of her pain. But what could I say? Your daughter isn’t dead, but I have to take her.” I peeked around the corner to the living room, confirming that Renee’s interest was on the television and not on us. I lifted my right arm. “She gave me this bracelet, telling me to please have it buried with her baby girl, Araneae.”

“Araneae? Is that why you wanted her name to be Renee?”

I nodded. “I hoped the one request could be granted by Sparrow’s people, the ones with the documents.”

“I thought that was some old bracelet, one you said you didn’t want to leave behind.”

“I didn’t lie to you, Byron. It is.”

He lifted my wrist and looked at the charms dangling from the gold links. “What are you going to do with this?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I imagine one day giving it to Renee, telling her it was from her birth mother and that she loved her too, like we do, so much that she knew that giving her to us was best, safest.”

Byron shook his head. “You can’t tell her any of that. She can’t know how we got her.”

“She knows she didn’t grow in my belly. When she asked about Patricia, next door, and why her tummy was getting bigger, I told her that babies grow in their mommies’ bellies. She made the natural assumption. I told her that even though she didn’t grow inside me, we loved her very much and she was our gift.”

“She’s three years old.”

“And she accepted it. No more questions.”

He took a deep breath. “Next time, talk to me first before you tell her anything that could come back to hurt her.”

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid, hurting her. I’m being as honest as I can. She’s smart. She asks questions. She watches and sees. That’s why I’m afraid she saw that man in our yard.”

“You don’t know that,” Byron said.

I didn’t reply.

“I’ll get new locks for the gates.”

“Thank you.”