The next day, I drag myself out of bed far earlier than I’d like. Still groggy with sleep and my eyes only half-open, I ignore the need to crawl back under the sheets because this morning I have something to do.

My task isn’t to visit with my grandparents, though I wish it was. For one, I don’t know where they stay. Not at the packhouse, and not with the children, since they told me they only help out a couple of hours a week.

I asked them where they lived, but Jude kissed my cheek and ...