My blood turned to ice, but it passed, or maybe it was just the wooden floor groaning. I did not know, and maybe I did not even want to know at that moment.
Emma leaned her forehead against my arm, humming the pond song Rosa had taught them, her voice so small, and sure it steadied me.
Then I spotted it...an old, rusted spoon on the floor near the bed. I remembered Josh was eating it earlier, dropping it when he left for the kitchen.
Maybe Emma would have picked it up. Whatever happened, I just thanked God in that moment.
I snatched it up without wasting another second.
It was a tool. A weapon.
And mostly... A Hope.
This time, I shoved the spoon deep into the seam and pressed down with every ounce of strength I had.
Emma also leaned into my back, her tiny palms flat against me, trying to help with her own small push.
