“Probably.”
“Does that matter to you?”
I thought before answering.
“Less than it used to.”
“Do you forgive him?”
“For trying to have me killed?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Do you hate him?”
That answer was different.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“Then what do you feel?”
I drove for another block.
“Distance.”
Emma laughed.
“That sounds boring.”
“It’s peaceful.”
She looked out the window.
“Peaceful sounds pretty good.”
“It is.”
Part Twenty-Four — The Night Before Emma Left Home
The night before Emma left for college, she climbed into my bed like she had when she was six.
“You’re going to cry tomorrow.”
“I absolutely am not.”
“You cried when I got my driver’s license.”
“Wind.”
“We were indoors.”
“Air conditioning.”
“You cried when I got my acceptance letter.”
“Seasonal allergies.”
“In February?”
“Very aggressive allergies.”
She laughed.
Then became quiet.
“I’m scared.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“Being scared means you understand something matters.”
She looked at me.
“Were you scared when Dad tried to hurt you?”
I stared at the ceiling.
“Yes.”
“But you knew exactly what to do.”
“No.”
“You recorded him. Called your lawyer. Sent everything to Uncle Miles. Got police.”
“I knew one step.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t have a brilliant plan, Emma.”
I turned toward her.
“I knew I needed to stay quiet.
“Then I knew I needed proof.
“Then I knew I needed to send it somewhere safe.
“Then I knew I needed help.
“I never knew the entire path.”
She thought about that.
“So sometimes you only need the next safe thing?”
“Exactly.”
She nodded slowly.
“I can do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
Part Twenty-Five — Everything Changed
The next morning, I drove Emma to campus.
We unloaded boxes.
A lamp.
Bedding.
Books.
Far too many clothes.
She hugged Miles.
Then Noah, who had come with Sabrina.
By then, the children had built their own cautious relationship, independent of the adults who had brought them into the world.
Finally, Emma hugged me.
She held on longer than usual.
Then she stepped back.
“This is weird.”
“What is?”
“Tomorrow everything is going to be different.”
My body went completely still.
Seventeen years disappeared.
I was back in the hospital.
Grant leaning over my bed.
His hand against my forehead.
His voice whispering almost affectionately:
