I spot them out of the corner of my eye when they emerge from the woods.
Mike Jr. and little Molly.
I run to them, grab hold of them, press them tightly against me.
“Sam!” I shout, through the tears. “I’ve got them!”
I hear him running up on us from behind.
“Thank God,” he says. “Thank God they’re all right.”
I’m filled with an explosive mix of emotions. Love and relief are suddenly replaced with rage. I stand tall, take a step back.
“What on earth compelled you two to disobey me? What possibly could have gone through those little brains of yours?” I ask them gruffly.
Molly’s eyes fill up. Her thick, blonde hair is tied up in pigtails. Her dress has ketchup stains on it. Her cheeks are blushing red, and a single tear falls from her blue eye. The tear is enough to break my hear
