EVEN as she spread the drop cloths around the living room, the irritated little voice ran through her head. “I’m not Janie!” Remembering it made her grin. At the therapy appointment that morning, Heather had suggested Sarah join Emma for her next session. Laura recoiled from the thought: it would confuse Sarah. Even Laura’s proposal that they start their walk in a different direction threw her into a tizzy. Sarah needed the familiar. Yet, maybe it would work. And maybe it would help Emma. Emma was sitting smack in the middle of the living room floor with her finger paints spread out around her, and she was already engrossed in her work. Laura hadn’t yet told her that Dylan was coming over to help her paint, but she had to tell her now; he was due in a few minutes. “Emma?” she said as she pried the lid off one of the cans of cream-colored paint. Emma looked up from her own painting.
