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I
know
Ben. I know how that boy’s mind works. Everything with Ben
is all about Ben.”
    I just nod. Although I hate to admit it, and I’d like to think she’s evolved a bit more than this, I think that in some ways Ben and Paige are not all that different.

Chapter

4
    On Saturday morning I call Mollie and
offer to babysit Fern so Mollie can have some time off. But after I get there, Mollie has decided she doesn’t want to go out. “I don’t really have anywhere to go,” she says.
    “You can use my Jeep,” I urge her. “The top’s down. Just go out and drive around if you want.”
    “No, that’s okay.”
    I study her. She’s wearing rumpled sweats and her hair is pulled back in a scruffy ponytail. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine. I just don’t feel like going out.” “Have you even had a shower today?” She frowns. “What? Do I smell?”
    “No. You just don’t look like yourself. Really, are you okay?”
    She starts to cry.
    “Mollie?” I question her. “What is it?”
    “I don’t know.” She reaches for a tissue, sniffling.
    “Did Tony do something?”
    “No. Tony’s been great.” Now she’s sobbing.
    “Mollie?”
    “I’m sorry — I can’t help it.” She blows her nose. “I just feel so sad.”
    “Did something happen today?”
    “It’s not just today, Erin.” She wipes her eyes. “It’s every day.”
    “Every
day?”
    She nods, blowing her nose again. “It’s not that I don’t love Fern.” She strokes her baby’s head. “I do. It’s just that I’m so sad. Maybe I’m grieving.”
    “Grieving?”
    “You know … for doing this all wrong.”
    “Doing what wrong? You’re a great mom, Mollie. You’re doing it really right.”
    “No … I mean having a baby without being married. Fern — she doesn’t even have a daddy.”
    “She has a daddy, Mollie. Tony’s her—”
    “No, I mean she’s —oh, you know what I mean.” Now she’s crying really hard, and Fern is starting to fuss too. I wonder if Fern’s just reflecting her mom’s sadness. I want to break this cycle.
    “Mollie,” I say in a firm tone. “You go take a shower and get dressed, okay?”
    “But I —”
    “Just do it!”
    She blinks. “All right.”
    While she’s showering, I go to her laptop and quickly google postpartum depression—or what they call the baby blues. I remember reading a brochure about this while Mollie was in the hospital with Fern. At the time I thought nothingof it, but after reading online a bit, I wonder if this is what’s troubling Mollie.
    I carry Fern upstairs, hoping Mollie’s mom is still here. She looked like she was getting ready to go out when I arrived. Fortunately, she’s still in the kitchen and it sounds like she’s trying to get off the phone. I wait for her to hang up then ask if she has a minute.
    “Sure.” She makes a cooing sound at Fern. “How’s my little princess?”
    “I’m worried about Mollie,” I tell her.
    “Mollie?” She looks oblivious.
    “I wonder if she might have postpartum depression.”
    Mrs. Tyson frowns. “Do you think so?”
    “I know she’s been a little moody since Fern was born, and I figured it was normal. But Mollie just admitted that she cries every day.”
    “Every day?”
    “Do you think she should talk to someone about it? I mean, a professional?”
    “She really cries every day?”
    “Please, don’t tell her that I told you,” I say quickly. “I don’t think she even wanted me to know. She wants to be strong for Fern’s sake. But she is really sad underneath.”
    “Okay, I’ll talk to her about it. And we’ll make an appointment with her doctor.”
    “I’ll try to get her to go out today,” I say.
    “Good luck with that.” She shakes her head. “That girl’s been a real stick-in-the-mud lately. I wanted her to come shopping with me today and she refused.”
    “Do you think that’s part of her depression?”
    “Maybe so.” She glances at her watch. “I’m late, Erin. I’m