Shelley felt slowly down the stairs, toes bare on the rough, patchy old carpet. Teddy bear clutched against her side. Below, winding up to her in the dark, voices. Mama and Aunt Rachel in the kitchen. Ten stairs and one for good luck, Uncle Albert used to say, and carefully, quietly, she found each one.

At the bottom, the chill of the linoleum under her feet and a damp breeze from a window open somewhere. Shivering in her thin nightgown. The kitchen light was on, its light seeping puddle-like through the open doorway.

Aunt Rachel's voice, soft. -You shouldn't worry so much.- The rain sighing against the window. She stood at the table, her forearms pale with flour, leaning into a ball of dough, gathering it up. Leaning, gathering, leaning, gathering. The dough shuddering and pale on the cheerful red plastic. The tendons in Aunt Rachel's arms sliding pale shadows under the weak light bulb.

In the dark just outside the door, Shelley's toes traced the edge of a square of linoleum. Pulled at a corner that had raised itself, valiant, from the floor.

Mama's voice, with a new tremble. -I don't know. You're so good to us...but...- Out of sight, Shelley heard the clink of a coffee cup set down on the plastic tabletop. A shifting sound.

-No, sit up. You'll get flour on you.- Aunt Rachel reaching across the table, sweeping most of the scattered pale powder back towards herself.

Mama's familiar sigh. A sound against the linoleum as she pushed the chair back, walked over to the sink, poured in her coffee. Her back to both of them, she raised a hand. Touched her fingertips to their reflection in the dark, wet-sliding windowpane.

-But what now? What do we do next? With Robert gone...and Shelley's going into first grade.-   Aunt Rachel frowned above her bright table, paused in her kneading. Mama didn't notice the change in her rhythm, kept speaking.

-What if I can't do it? She's growing, and even now with what I make I can barely feed her. You told me she looked skinny for her age.-

-You worry too much. It'll be fine. You'll see.-

-Well. I just...I don't know what to do, and I don't know anyone else who'd take her. I saw an ad this morning for a foster homes agency...-

Nothing much, just a whisper as the teddy fell from her grasp, bumped on the linoleum, skidded into the puddle of light. Nothing loud. But Aunt Rachel stopped, about to lean again into her dough, and Mama jerked her fingers away from the windowpane and turned. Their eyes jumped to the doorway, to the helplessly staring bear.

Mama's mouth opened, slack. Aunt Rachel stepped back from the table, wiped her hands on her apron as Shelley turned away fast, stumbling for the stairs in the dark.