Dream House. Catherine Armsden

If she was still alive, that is. On mornings after a night like last night, she could never feel sure she would see her mother again.

      It was seven o’clock, time to get back in bed. She turned off the light and went to the window. The sun was up, and it set the edge of the red sumacs ablaze. The rocks of Miller’s and Poison Ivy Island were black against the midnight blue sea; the trees were losing their leaves, and she could see all the way to New Hampshire. When she turned ten next year, she’d be allowed to sail their boat across the harbor and river mouth, to New Hampshire. To another state, by herself!