My husband had barely left on his so-called business trip when my six-year-old daughter suddenly whispered, “Mommy… we have to run. Now.”
By the time the sun pushed a pale strip of light across the kitchen floor, I had already convinced myself the hardest part of the week was over. Derek had left before dawn for what he casually called a routine business trip, and I was standing at the sink, rinsing coffee grounds from a mug,…
