Chapter 11
“I know,” I said. “I don’t want to go, either.”
Emma’s fingers tightened around Bunny’s ear. I stayed crouched beside her, close enough for her to lean against me if she wanted, but I didn’t reach for her first.
“Auntie will be with you this morning,” I said. “She’ll take you to school and pick you up. I’ll be home at three-thirty. If something changes, she’ll tell you, and you’ll stay with her while she calls me.”
Emma glanced at the picture schedule on the refrigerator.
“Even if you’re late?”
“If I’m late, Auntie stays with you. You don’t have to wait by yourself or figure anything out.”
Her eyes searched my face.
“Will you come back?”
“Yes. I’ll come home today at three-thirty.”
I wanted to add that I would never leave her again, that no workday or unexpected delay could ever come between us. But that wasn’t a promise I could honestly make. She didn’t need another impossible sentence. She needed me to tell her what would happen today—and then do it.
My sister had gone quiet by the stove. She didn’t rush in to coax Emma or tell her there was nothing to be afraid of. We had agreed to let Emma feel what she felt without turning the goodbye into a test.
“I can stay right here with you,” my sister said. “You can be sad. I’ll help you get ready when you’re ready.”
Emma leaned into my shoulder. I held her, and Bunny’s soft nose pressed against my chin.
“I’m not mad at you for being sad,” I whispered. “You don’t have to make this easier for me.”
She gave a small nod, though I wasn’t sure she understood all of it. I hoped she would learn it through what we did, not just what I said: that her feelings wouldn’t cost her anyone’s love, and that she was never responsible for managing mine.
For a few minutes, I didn’t mention my bag by the door. My sister poured Emma’s cereal. I sat at the table while she ate, and we talked about Bunny’s place in the car. Emma wanted him beside her, not in her backpack, so my sister found a seat belt that would fit around his middle.
When it was time to leave, Emma stopped in the hall.
“I want you to come.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want Auntie. I want you.”
The words struck the sorest place in me. I felt the impulse to grab my keys and tell work I couldn’t come in after all. But my sister was here. The plan was the one we had practiced. Emma was allowed to dislike it; my job was to make sure it stayed safe and predictable, not to erase every hard feeling by changing the plan at the last moment.
I knelt and held out my arms.
“Do you want one more hug before you go?”
She nodded and came to me. I held her while she cried into my shirt. My sister stood nearby, giving us time without making the doorway feel like a trap.
When Emma was ready, I eased back.
“Auntie is coming with you,” I said. “I’ll see you at three-thirty.”
She didn’t answer. She wiped her cheek with her sleeve and took my sister’s hand, Bunny tucked against her other arm.
I kissed the top of her head.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
Then my sister walked her toward the car. Emma looked back once from the end of the walk. I lifted my hand. She lifted Bunny’s paw.
I stayed by the door until they were out of sight. Every part of me wanted to follow—to keep her in view, to make sure the morning stayed gentle, to find a way to guarantee that nothing would frighten her. But chasing after her would have changed the goodbye into something alarming. My sister had her. The plan was working, even if Emma was crying.
I closed the door and stood in the quiet house, listening to the ordinary sounds: the refrigerator humming, the clock over the stove ticking. The laundry-room door remained open. I had left it that way, though no one had asked me to. I walked past it without stopping.
At work, I kept my phone on the desk. I didn’t call my sister every few minutes. We had talked through the morning, and she had Emma with her. The distinction felt small, but I knew it mattered. I wasn’t going to teach Emma that being apart from me was dangerous by treating it as an emergency.
Still, I checked the time more than I needed to.
At lunch, I started to call. My thumb hovered over my sister’s name. Then I stopped. We had agreed she would contact me if anything changed. I set the phone down and finished my sandwich.
A little later, one message appeared.
She’s settled. We’re following the plan.
I read it twice, then replied, Thank you. I’ll be home at three-thirty.
The rest of the afternoon moved slowly. I finished what I could and left when I said I would. At 3:27, I unlocked the front door.
Emma was in the living room beside my sister, her coat hung over a chair and Bunny resting in her lap. She looked up when I came in.
“You came back,” she said.
“I told you I would.”
She stood, then paused as if she hadn’t decided whether she wanted to run to me. I didn’t make the choice for her. A moment later, she crossed the room and leaned against my legs.
My sister gave me a quiet look. “She had a hard goodbye,” she said, while Emma turned Bunny’s ear between her fingers. “After that, we took it one step at a time.”
I thanked her. I didn’t ask Emma to recount the day or prove she had been all right. She had already done enough by getting through it with the support we’d promised her.
That evening, we ate together at the kitchen table. Emma told me what she wanted on her plate and asked if Bunny could sit beside her. For a while, she seemed content to listen while my sister and I talked about ordinary things.
After dinner, Emma put Bunny on the couch and came to stand near me.
“At school, we made a yellow sun,” she said. “Mine had big rays.”
“I’d like to see it.”
She considered that, then shrugged. “It’s in my cubby.”
“Maybe you can show me another day.”
“Okay.”
She reached for Bunny and turned toward the television, already finished talking about it. I let the conversation end. A small piece of her day, offered freely, was enough. I didn’t need to make it bigger.
My sister stayed until Emma was ready for bed. We followed the routine Emma had chosen: pajamas, the hall light on, the door open. The photographs of Rachel remained beside her pillow. Bunny went under one arm.
Before my sister left, she squeezed my shoulder. Neither of us said we could make every morning easy. We didn’t have to pretend the day had fixed anything. Emma had cried, and she had been cared for. I had gone to work, and I had come home when I said I would.
After Emma was tucked in, my phone rang.
The investigator’s name appeared on the screen.
I stepped into the hall and answered quietly.
“Daniel, I’ve completed the remaining review,” she said. “Before I present the gathered evidence for review, I need one final meeting with you.”
I looked through Emma’s open doorway. She was still awake, one hand resting on Bunny.
May you like
“When?” I asked.
“Tomorrow,” the investigator said. “There’s something we need to go over first.”
