Doll didn't know more than we did—at least not then—but what she says does come to pass when we least expect it. The flowers that Rose tends so carefully are in full bloom. It's the hottest part of summer and the heat holds the white air from the smoke stacks in the air day and night. The heat is trapped all around us. There is no escape.

Rabbit and I are outside despite this, because the heat is just as unbearable inside. There is a small fountain on the other end of the garden, next to the gate, with murky water, where we dip our feet. The water is tepid, but Rabbit and I are good at pretending.

Rose does not seem to mind the heat, but out of the corner of my eye I can see her sway when she stands. Looking back I wish I could have foreseen what would happen next.

If I could go back I would have rushed to her side, dragging Rabbit along by tugging on her boney wrist. I would have screamed until Father Urselle came. I would have barked and yelped like a dog. I would have caught her before her body hit the hard uneven ground with a swoosh and a thud.

Even though I've seen Rose falter, I disregard her, turning back to Rabbit and the game we are playing with our toes tangled together in the fountain.

Later, when the heat becomes too much we will lazily stole toward the backdoor. I remember we stopped to watch a man pass by the gate. He was a stranger with hair on his face and a thick dark suite.