At five, she’s become dangerously alluring.
I’m like a vampire, but it’s never blood I crave.
I gaze at her from the doorway, watching her read. So smart she is, already reading chapter books. But intelligence can’t protect her.
She looks up. Sees me. Smiles.
How can I keep her safe? I’ve no wooden stake. Sunlight can’t incinerate me. But outside our vacation home’s windows, Lake Michigan’s drowning waters beckon.
“Your mom is in the kitchen,” I say. “I’m heading out for a swim.”
“Can I come too?”
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m going too far today.”