"Jean, Jean—"
"I don't care. I mean it. Everything bad has happened since Joanna came to live with us."
"Darling, you can't blame the child for a series of accidents."
"I know." She raised her tear-stained face. "But after all— Michael, drowned. Then Steve, falling off the water tower. Now it's Marian." Her fingers gripped his arm tightly. "Jim, each of them was playing alone with Joanna when it happened."
"Accidents, just accidents," he said. It wasn't like Jean, this talk. Almost— His mind shied away from the word, and circled back. Almost paranoid. But Jean was stable, rational, always had been. Still, maybe a little chat with Doctor Holland would be a good idea. Breakdowns do happen.
They both turned at the slamming of the screen door. Then came the patter of childish feet on the kitchen linoleum, and Joanna burst into the room.
"Mommy, I want to play with Marian. Why can't I play with Marian?"
Jean put her arm around the girl's thin shoulder. "Darling, you won't be able to play with Marian for—quite a while. You mustn't worry about it now."
"Mommy, she looked just like she was asleep, then they came and took her away." Her lips trembled. "I'm frightened, Mommy."