Jo waited until after they’d gathered the eggs to tell her. They carried the baskets into the house and washed the eggs with warm water before drying them and putting them in the cartons. Ordinarily what would happen next was the tough part, the part where Jo put the little girl in the room again and locked the door. Locked the door and went about her day, trying not to think of the child there, all alone and still scared, in spite of how things had changed.
Today was different.
Jo stacked the eggs by the back door, ready for the cooler in the warehouse. She kept one dozen, though, and brought it over and handed it to the girl, who was sitting at the table, folding the drying towel.
“These are for your mom.”
“What do you mean?” the girl asked.
“You’re going home today.”
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“Oh my gosh.”
The tears started and Jo turned away so the kid wouldn’t see her cry.