“She is my daughter. That does not change today, tomorrow, or ever. No truth you tell me will take that from me.”
His face crumpled.
“But what you did to me,” I continued, “that is something we will deal with. You robbed me of the chance to stand beside you in the truth. You decided for me what I could handle.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And I will spend the rest of my life making that right if you let me.”
I stood, Evelyn still in my arms, and turned to Eliza.
“As for you,” I said, “if you ever come into my home again and speak about my child like she is something shameful, it will be the last time you see any of us.”
For the first time in my life, Eliza looked shaken.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. A moment later, she picked up her handbag and left without another word.
The door clicked shut behind her.
The house went quiet except for the soft rustle of streamers in the air conditioning.
Norton remained seated, staring at the floor as if he no longer deserved to look at me. Finally he said, “I’m sorry. I know sorry isn’t enough.”
“No,” I said. “It isn’t.”
Then I took a breath and sat back down.
“But today is Evelyn’s birthday,” I said. “So we are going to sing to her, and cut her cake, and let her wear that ridiculous plastic tiara all afternoon. Tomorrow, you and I will begin the hard part.”
He looked up slowly, hope and grief tangled together in his expression.
Evelyn brightened at once. “Cake?”
