Our neighbor was sitting on the couch, holding Lily.

Lily was asleep, her tiny face peaceful.

I took her in my arms and carried her into the nursery.

A new crib sat in the corner, made of natural, unfinished pine.

We had bought it ourselves from a local shop.

It smelled of clean wood and nothing else.

I laid Lily down on the soft mattress.

She stirred slightly, then settled back to sleep.

Megan came in and stood beside me, resting her head on my shoulder.

We stood there for a long time, watching our daughter breathe.

The shadow that had hung over our home was gone.

The air in the room was safe.

We had survived.

And we were finally home.