“What?” he said, turning the radio down. “She just took off,” Gail said, in a voice, hushed and anxious. “What do we do? I don’t know what to do?” “I can barely hear you.” “I’m in the car. Steffi’s asleep in the back seat and I don’t want to wake her.” Gail blew her nose. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t thinking. I just call you and start babbling—” “It’s okay. Just take a breath. Calm down,” he said like he used to do when they were at home and she’d wake him up after having a nightmare. That’s the Gail he saw in his mind just then—not the busy wife, mother, and hub of the family—but his baby sister wearing a pink Care Bear nightie with most of the sparkles worn off, her long, pin-straight hair framing a small face streaked with tears. Her big brother was always her first choice when she needed comforting, over Mom, over Tina, even over Dad.
