The SUV rolled to a stop outside the estate, but Daddy didn't carry me to the nursery this time. He unbuckled my seatbelt and guided me out into the evening air, one arm firm at my waist. The cicadas had started their electric drone. My bare feet found the gravel, then the smooth flagstones of the back path, then the cool wood of the clinic wing.

The air inside smelled different tonight—fresh sawdust, linseed oil, the faint iron tang of polished metal. Daddy walked me past the examination table with its stirrups, past the corner chair, past the cradle with its waiting dildo. We stopped at a door I'd never seen him open.