Sarah first noticed the change on a Tuesday morning. Eight-month-old Lula had always greeted Rebecca, the nanny who cared for her, with a gummy smile. That morning, she buried her face against Sarah’s shoulder instead. “Hey, Lulabug,” Rebecca said, holding out her hands. Lula stiffened immediately. “That’s strange,” Sarah murmured. Rebecca gave a small laugh. “Maybe she’s decided she doesn’t like Tuesdays.” Then Lula began to cry loudly and cling even tighter to Sarah.
Sarah tried to make light of it. “She barely slept last night. She’s probably overtired.” Rebecca nodded and knelt beside Lula with her stuffed rabbit. “Want Mr. Bunny?” she asked. Lula turned away. Sarah hesitated at the door. “Call me if she stays like this.” “I will,” Rebecca promised. “Go. We’ll be fine.” Sarah left, but Lula’s crying followed her into the hallway.
That evening, Sarah came home early. Rebecca was folding laundry while Lula sat quietly in her playpen. “How was she?” Sarah asked. “Better after lunch,” Rebecca said. She stepped over and reached down. Lula’s back went rigid. Her head twisted sharply, and she screamed. Rebecca jerked her hands away as she said, “I didn’t even touch her.” Sarah stared at her daughter, thinking furiously about what the matter could be.