Chapter 10
On Nia’s thirteenth birthday, we kept the cake on the table until she was ready to cut it.
She chose chocolate with bright yellow flowers because Simone had loved yellow flowers. Caleb placed thirteen candles around the edge. Ava wanted to add one for luck, but Nia told her thirteen was enough.
Renee brought dinner. Evelyn came with a small gift and asked before hugging Nia. Nia said yes.
Caleb put on music. Ava danced through the kitchen while I tried to stop the rolls from burning.
Nia stood in the doorway, watching us.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes.” She looked at the cake. “I just wanted to see it there for a minute.”
I understood.
At her last birthday, Vanessa had thrown the cake away while I was gone. This year, Nia knew everyone in the room had come for her.
When it was time, we sang. She closed her eyes and made a wish. Then she blew out every candle in one breath.
Caleb cheered. Ava demanded the flower made from frosting.
After dinner, I gave Nia my present. It was a small photo album. Renee had helped me find pictures of Simone when Nia was little. Caleb and Ava had added recent photographs of the four of us: building her shelf, planting by the patio, and laughing at the school sale.
Nia turned the pages slowly.
“You put both parts in,” she said.
“They’re all yours.”
She stopped at a picture of Simone holding her beneath a yellow blanket.
“I don’t remember this day.”
“I do,” I said. “She took you outside because you wouldn’t stop crying indoors. The moment you felt the breeze, you fell asleep.”
Nia touched the photograph. “Tell me another one later.”
“As many as you want.”
Evelyn had brought a card from Vanessa in a sealed envelope. She had asked Dana first, and Dana had checked with Dr. Harris. Nia could decide whether to open it.
Nia put it beside the album.
“I’ll read it another day.”
No one asked why.
After the guests left, Caleb and Ava helped clear the table. Nia carried her album upstairs. I went to the patio door and checked the little plant. It had grown tall enough to need a stake.
Nia came down behind me.
“Do you still check the lock?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I do too.”
I turned toward her.
“Would you like to check it with me tonight?”
She nodded. We opened the door, stepped outside together, then came back in. I locked it and let her try the handle. It held.
She looked through the glass at the garden.
“I’m not afraid of the rain every time now.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Sometimes I still am.”
“I know. You can tell me whenever it happens.”
She took my hand.
We had built routines around that promise. Dr. Harris was still there when Nia wanted to talk. Renee could come at short notice. Caleb and Ava knew they could love their mother and tell me when a visit felt hard. The court’s plan was clear, and no one could arrive at our door claiming I had agreed to send Nia away.
Vanessa’s false signature had been formally addressed. The private service had changed how it verified consent. Nia had been heard by the people who had once planned to collect her without meeting her.
None of those things erased the night I found her outside. They made the home she lived in now safer.
“Dad,” she said, “can we leave the curtains open?”
“Yes.”
We went upstairs together. Caleb had set her album on the new shelf, next to Simone’s photograph. Ava’s single book was on the bottom, exactly where Nia had allowed it.
Nia looked around her room.
“Does the shelf still feel sturdy?” she asked.
“It survived Ava trying to climb it. I think it’s fine.”
She laughed and sat on the bed. I put the birthday card from Evelyn on her desk. Vanessa’s envelope stayed closed beside it.
I moved toward the door.
“Daddy?”
I turned.
“I made a wish before I blew out the candles.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I wished we could have more days like today.”
“We can.”
She studied my face. She had once asked whether she had to leave our home. Tonight, she was asking for ordinary days in it.
“I believe you,” she said.
I turned off the light and left her door open a little. Downstairs, Caleb and Ava were still arguing gently about who had eaten the last piece of cake. I called that I would cut another slice for breakfast if they let me put the leftovers away.
From her room, I heard Nia laugh again.
May you like
I stood in the hallway and listened. All three of my children were home. Nia’s suitcase was gone, her birthday photographs were on her shelf, and the rain outside belonged to the garden.
In the morning, I would be there when she woke.
