Looking back, I wonder whether he’d simply learned not to expect an answer.

There was one object from our marriage I remembered particularly well.

A wristwatch I’d given Nathan for our anniversary.

It had a silver bracelet and a distinctive blue dial.

I’d saved money for six months to afford it.

On the back, I’d paid extra to have a message engraved.

**“Always your home. S.”**

At the time, I believed those words represented a promise.

I had no idea how bitterly ironic they would become.

Six months after Nathan disappeared, a woman named Ivy moved into a house three doors down from ours.

She was older, lived alone, and seemed eager to become part of the neighborhood.

She told me her daughter and granddaughter lived in another city.

At first, Ivy appeared wonderfully kind.

She occasionally baked cookies for Joel.

She offered to watch him if I needed help.