Chapter 10
On Lily’s birthday, Arthur made a cake that leaned to one side.
Ruth offered to fix it. He refused.
“Lily helped me,” he said. “It looks like something we made together.”
Lily was six. She had chosen yellow icing and enough small sugar flowers to cover the entire top. When she saw the cake, she hugged Arthur so hard he nearly dropped it.
Mrs. Carter came early with a gift wrapped in newspaper comics. Ruth brought fresh rolls. Ms. Lewis stopped by for a few minutes and let Lily show her the room we shared before Arthur helped turn the second bedroom into two sleeping spaces.
Lily wanted me close, so my bed stayed against the wall nearest hers.
I did too.
While the adults set out plates, I went outside with the photograph. Dad’s face looked small and sleepy beneath the blue blanket. Arthur looked younger than Dad had when I last saw him.
He came out and found me on the porch.
“Birthday parties were Daniel’s favorite,” he said. “He liked the cake more than the presents.”
“He always gave Lily his frosting.”
“He gave you yours too?”
“Only if I asked.”
Arthur laughed. Then his eyes filled.
I could talk about Dad now without worrying it would make Arthur retreat into silence. Sometimes we both cried. Then one of us remembered something funny and the feeling changed.
“Do you wish you’d found us earlier?” I asked.
“Every day.”
I leaned against the porch rail.
“Me too.”
Arthur did not promise he could make up all the lost years. He had stopped making promises that large. He told Lily when he would pick her up from school, and he arrived. He told me he would come to my next play, and he was there before the lights went down.
I trusted those promises.
Inside, Mrs. Carter called us to sing. I carried the photograph in and set it on a shelf where Dad could be part of the day.
Lily sat in front of her crooked cake. Ruth lit the candles.
“Make a wish,” I told her.
She closed her eyes for a long time. When she blew, two candles stayed lit. Arthur helped with the last ones.
“Did you wish for a bicycle?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you.”
After everyone had eaten, Lily came to me with frosting on her chin.
“I wished we could stay here.”
“You already know we can.”
“I wanted to wish it anyway.”
I hugged her.
“We’re staying.”
She ran back to Ruth, who was teaching her how to fold a paper bakery bag.
Arthur heard us. He crossed the room and put one arm around each of us.
“You’re both wanted here,” he said.
Lily tilted her face up.
“Even when I get flour on the floor?”
“Especially then. It means we’re baking.”
“Even when Noah leaves radio pieces everywhere?”
“He puts them in a tray.”
I smiled. Arthur had noticed.
That evening, after the guests left, we took a walk to the bakery. Ruth had gone home, and the windows were dark. Lily pressed her palm to the glass.
“This is where we met,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I was hungry.”
“You were.”
“Ruth gave us sandwiches.”
“And Arthur listened to your whole bear story.”
She turned toward him. “I can tell it again.”
“I’d like that.”
We walked home while she told it, including every part he already knew. Arthur asked a question at the right moment, and Lily gave him a serious answer.
I thought of the morning I had stood at Ruth’s counter with seven dollars. I had been afraid I could not keep Lily safe. Dad had left me a photograph and an address, but I had no idea what would happen when I got there.
Now Lily walked between Arthur and me, swinging our hands.
At home, Arthur put a fresh roll on the kitchen table for each of us. Lily ate half of hers and fell asleep before she could finish it.
I carried her upstairs. Arthur came behind me with Dad’s old blanket.
Together, we tucked it around her.
She opened one eye.
“Don’t forget my other half,” she murmured.
“I’ll save it,” I said.
Arthur switched on the small lamp by her bed. Its warm light fell across Dad’s photograph on my shelf.
I looked at the baby in the blue blanket, then at Arthur beside me.
Dad had wanted us to find help here. I wished I could tell him we had found more than that.
Arthur rested his hand lightly on my shoulder.
“Good night, Noah.”
“Good night, Grandpa.”
It was the first time I had called him that without thinking about it.
His eyes shone. He smiled and waited while I climbed into bed. Across the room, Lily slept with the blanket Dad had once pulled over both of us.
May you like
I felt safe enough to close my eyes.
In the morning, we would make breakfast together.
