Melissa waited.
Daniel said:
“I’m restructuring my role.”
“I don’t know exactly what that looks like.”
“But I will not be gone six days unless there is an emergency.”
“I can attend remotely.”
“Delegate.”
“Lose deals if necessary.”
Melissa’s voice softened.
“Okay.”
“Will you come talk to the kids?”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
When Melissa arrived that afternoon, Amelia ran across the foyer and hit her so hard around the waist that Melissa nearly lost balance.
Daniel turned away.
He did not want Amelia to see him cry again.
Noah did anyway.
His son stood beside him.
“You okay?”
Daniel nodded.
Noah looked at him.
“Liar.”
Daniel laughed softly.
“Apparently everyone has inherited your mother’s attitude.”
Noah smiled.
“Good.”
Family therapy began the following week.
Amelia’s therapist, Dr. Helen Park, refused to let Daniel turn sessions into an investigation.
“This room is not for collecting evidence.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Daniel looked toward Amelia, who was building a house from wooden blocks.
“I’m trying.”
Dr. Park nodded.
“Good.”
Amelia revealed things slowly.
Not all at once.
Grandma made her use a separate plastic cup because “you break things.”
Grandma stopped putting her school pictures on the refrigerator.
Grandma told her that Laura had loved Noah first.
Grandma said adoption meant being “chosen,” but choices could change.
Grandma made her give a new winter coat Daniel bought her to Mason because “you already have one.”
Grandma called her “the charity case” once while talking to Rebecca.
Amelia did not know what charity case meant.
She knew it felt bad.
Daniel had to leave the room after that.
Not because he was angry at Amelia.
Because his face scared her.
He sat in the hallway with his hands shaking.
Dr. Park joined him five minutes later.
“You cannot let her become responsible for your pain.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
“When she tells you something terrible and you look destroyed, she may decide silence protects you.”
He looked at the wall.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Be sad.”
“Be angry.”
“Be human.”
“But make sure she understands your feelings are yours to carry.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I keep thinking about all the calls.”
“What calls?”
“She sounded different sometimes.”
“I told myself she missed me.”
“She did.”
“That isn’t the same as saying you should have known.”
Daniel looked toward Dr. Park.
“What if I should have?”
“Then learn without asking your daughter to comfort your guilt.”
He nodded.
Hard advice.
Useful.
Rebecca called eleven days after the dinner.
Daniel ignored the first call.
Then the second.
On the third, she left a voicemail.
“I need to tell you something about Mom.”
Daniel listened twice.
Then called.
Rebecca answered immediately.
“Thank you.”
“Talk.”
She inhaled.
“Mom came to my house.”
“I assumed.”
“She’s furious.”
“I also assumed.”
“She says she’s getting a lawyer.”
“For what?”
“Grandparent access.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“She can spend whatever she wants.”
Rebecca continued:
“She also says you’re mentally unstable since Laura died.”
Daniel became still.
“What?”
“She says you’ve been neglecting the kids.”
“Traveling constantly.”
“Leaving them with whoever.”
Daniel looked toward the office door.
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
“Would you have last month?”
Silence.
That answer hurt.