Then he heard Emily approaching from the living room.
"Dad?"
Daniel turned.
She stood in the doorway wearing a blue sweatshirt decorated with small silver stars.
"Are you okay?"
He smiled faintly.
"Yeah, sweetheart."
She studied his face.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you say you're okay but you're thinking about something."
Despite himself, Daniel laughed.
She smiled.
Then glanced toward the drawer.
"Was that about the window?"
Daniel hesitated.
He'd always tried to answer his daughter's questions honestly without burdening her with adult conflicts she couldn't control.
"Yes," he said.
Emily stepped closer.
"From the woman?"
He nodded.
"She wrote an apology."
Emily was quiet for a moment.
Then asked a question he hadn't expected.
"Do I have to forgive her?"
Daniel felt something tighten in his chest.
He pulled out a chair.
"No, Emily. You don't have to forgive anybody just because they apologize."
She sat across from him.
He continued gently.
"An apology means someone is acknowledging what they did. It doesn't mean you're required to feel a certain way afterward."
Emily looked down at her hands.
For several seconds, she seemed to consider that.
Then she whispered, "I'm still mad."
Daniel nodded.
"That's understandable."
She looked toward the hallway.
"I know I'm supposed to be happy nobody got hurt."
"You can be grateful you're safe and still be upset about what happened."
Emily's eyes filled.
"I used to love sitting by that window."
Daniel reached across the table.
She took his hand.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Daniel said quietly, "You deserve to feel safe in your room. We're going to keep working on that, however long it takes."
Emily nodded.
She didn't ask to read the letter.
And Daniel didn't insist.
That evening, he placed Deborah's apology inside the folder containing the records of the incident.
He didn't throw it away.
But he didn't send a reply either.
For now, the most important person in the matter wasn't Deborah, who wanted forgiveness.
It was Emily, who needed time.
Marcus Bennett learned about the letter several days later.
Daniel mentioned it while the two men were repairing a loose board on the fence separating their backyards.
The autumn weather had turned cooler, and dry leaves covered the narrow strip of grass between the houses. Marcus wore an old charcoal work shirt, jeans, and boots, while Daniel held a cordless drill and examined a replacement bracket.
"Deborah wrote to me," Daniel said.
Marcus stopped working.
"An apology?"
"Yes."
For a moment, Marcus looked toward the cream-colored house.
"How do you feel about it?"
Daniel considered the question.
"I'm glad she acknowledged what she did."
He paused.
"But that doesn't change what happened to Emily."