WHEN MY 59-YEAR-OLD NEIGHBOR KNOCKED AT MIDNIGHT, I THOUGHT I WAS FIXING A PIPE, BUT I WAS REALLY SAVING MY OWN LIFE…

burst out laughing. Not polite laughter. Full, helpless laughter, the kind that shakes loose something stale inside you.

“That woman could interrogate a state senator,” I said.

“She’s done worse,” Caroline replied.

The laughter mattered because it gave us our first taste of defiance. People would talk. Small towns always did. But for the first time in continue reading …