Chapter 9
We planted the flowers on Saturday.
Dad dug the holes. I placed the small plants in them, and Ava carried the watering can from one end of the porch to the other. Caleb read the planting directions aloud, though he kept pretending we couldn't manage without him.
It was the first Saturday in a long time when I didn't watch the clock to see how much work remained.
That evening, Tasha called Dad. Vanessa had agreed to a schedule for Caleb and Ava while the adults worked through the legal details. She had also asked whether I would accept a written apology.
Dad told me at dinner.
“You can read it, return it, or leave it sealed,” he said.
“What do you think I should do?”
“I think the choice should belong to you.”
The letter arrived through Tasha a few days later. I left it on my desk until Sunday.
Then I opened it.
Vanessa wrote that she'd treated me unfairly. She admitted the chore lists had been much longer for me than for Caleb and Ava. She said taking my bracelet was wrong and that she'd tried to make me doubt my own account of things.
I read those lines twice.
Near the end, she wrote that she hoped I could forgive her and that she missed having all five of us under one roof.
I folded the letter.
The first part felt like she had finally seen me. The last part asked me to give her something I couldn't give.
I took it to Dad.
“Do I have to reply?”
“No.”
“I believe she's sorry about some of it.”
“You can believe that and still decide where you feel safe.”
I put the letter in my desk drawer. I didn't want to throw it away, and I didn't want to read it again yet.
At school, Ms. Ellis asked whether I'd like to talk about what had happened with Vanessa. I told her about the letter and how strange it felt to hear an apology after spending so long trying to get someone to notice.
“What did you need most back then?” she asked.
“For Dad to stay in the room when I talked.”
“And now?”
“He does.”
I realized as I said it that I trusted him to keep listening. I still got nervous sometimes when he was late, but I called, and he answered. He told me where he was instead of making me feel foolish for asking.
The arrangements for Caleb and Ava took time. Some weeks they spent more nights with Vanessa; other weeks they stayed with Dad. Tasha helped with pickups. The younger two were allowed to say when a plan felt difficult.
I missed them when they were gone.
One Friday, Caleb came back with a game he'd bought at a yard sale. He asked me to play. Halfway through, he put down his cards.
“I told Mom I won't carry messages again.”
“How did she take it?”
“She got quiet. Then she said okay.”
“I'm glad you told her.”
“I was scared.”
“I would have been too.”
He picked up his cards.
“I still feel bad about the popcorn.”
“You've cleaned up after yourself ever since,” I said.
“I know. I just remember how you looked.”
I set my cards down too.
“I remember you told Dad the truth.”
He gave me a small smile. We finished the game, and he won.
Ava liked the flowers so much she made paper labels for each plant. One said Nia's flowers. Another said Dad's digging. Caleb's said Expert reader of instructions.
She made one for herself: Water boss.
Dad put them in plastic sleeves before the rain could ruin them.
Near the end of the school year, my art teacher asked to display a drawing I'd made of our front porch. I had drawn the flowers at night with light coming from the kitchen window.
Dad came to see it after work. Ruth came too. Caleb said my drawing looked better than our actual porch. Ava disagreed and promised to water the flowers until they caught up.
After the display, Dad and I walked to the car together.
“Your mother would have loved it,” he said.
I touched the bracelet beneath my sleeve.
“I think so.”
“She used to fill every spare piece of paper with flowers.”
“I remember.”
Dad looked at me.
“I'm glad you kept her yellow wall.”
“I was afraid you'd paint it.”
“I won't.”
I wanted to tell him I had once been afraid he'd forget more than a wall. He seemed to know.
At home, I moved the dresser a few inches so the yellow showed. I taped my drawing beside it.
The next morning, sunlight fell across both colors.
May you like
I heard Dad in the kitchen, Caleb asking where the cereal was, and Ava arguing that her flowers needed water before breakfast.
I went downstairs because I wanted to join them.
