Dustin always defended her with the same exhausted sentence.

“She means well.”

When Judith said Meadow sang too loudly, she meant well.

When Judith threw away the cookies I packed and replaced them with plain rice cakes, she meant well.

When Judith told Meadow that girls who cared too much about being pretty were punished by God, she meant well.

I convinced myself I was lucky. Judith watched Meadow twice a week for free while Dustin and I worked. Childcare was expensive. Family was supposed to be safe. And Meadow, though quieter after time at Judith’s house, always bounced back before bedtime.

Until she didn’t.

The morning I dropped her off, Meadow hugged me tighter than usual. Her hair smelled like strawberry shampoo. A purple ribbon tied the end of each braid.