Chapter 6 - THE FIRST TIME NORA CALLED ME DADDY AGAIN
Nora spoke to me three weeks after Vincent’s arrest.
I had stopped asking.
That was important.
Every night, I sat outside their room and read.
Sometimes aloud.
Sometimes silently.
No questions.
No:
Say Daddy.
No:
Tell me what happened.
No promises I could not keep.
One evening, I read Charlotte’s Web badly enough that Sophie finally whispered:
“That’s not the spider voice.”
I froze.
Then forced myself not to react.
I turned the page.
“What spider voice?”
She looked suspicious.
“You do it weird.”
“Show me.”
She did.
Terrible spider impression.
I nodded seriously.
“Much better.”
She smiled.
That became our first conversation in fourteen months.
Three days later, Olivia asked whether she could have pancakes.
A week later, Nora dropped a crayon and said:
“Daddy, get it.”
I stared at the crayon.
Not her.
Because if I looked at her, I would cry.
I picked it up.
Handed it back.
“Here.”
She touched my cheek.
“You’re crying.”
Betrayed by biology.
“Little bit.”
“Why?”
“Happy.”
She thought.
Then:
“Happy crying is weird.”
“Yes.”
She accepted that.
Later that night I sat alone in Isabelle’s hidden room.
Grace found me.
“You’re crying again.”
“Apparently.”
“You’re becoming very emotional.”
“Tell anyone and I’ll deny it.”
She sat beside me.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then I said:
“I was jealous of you.”
“I know.”
I stared.
“You knew?”
“You looked at me like I had stolen your children.”
“That obvious?”
“Painfully.”
I rubbed my face.
“You gave them something I couldn’t.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Safety.”
Grace shook her head.
“I gave them predictability.”
“There’s a difference.”
She explained.
She always knocked before entering.
Never touched their toys without asking.
Never made them answer questions.
Never promised things she could not guarantee.
When they hid food after nightmares, she did not shame them.
When Nora wanted the same yellow cup every morning, Grace kept it available.
Small things.
I had tried grand things.
Ponies.
Trips.
Specialists.
Security.
Money.
I had tried to purchase a bridge back to my daughters.
Grace built one out of repeated ordinary moments.
That humbled me.
May you like
Probably overdue.
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