She had been smaller then. She remembered holding the door handle and watching strangers cross between the parked cars.
When I confronted Richard, he acted insulted that I had questioned his judgment.
He told me children needed to learn not to panic.
I told him adults needed to learn not to abandon them.
That was the first time I gave him a clear no and refused to soften it for Daniel’s sake, for the holidays, or for the comfort of the rest of the family.
Richard did not shout.
He simply looked at me and said, “You’ll regret teaching her to be afraid of her own family.”
I thought about that sentence every time he smiled at Emma afterward.
On Christmas morning, his gift was the last one under the tree.
Emma knelt in front of it and ran her fingers over the velvet ribbon.
Before she pulled it loose, she looked up at me.
