Chapter 10
The sunflowers grew slowly.
Every Saturday, Lily measured them against marks Dad made on the porch post. At first there was hardly any change. Then, after a warm week of rain, the stems rose past her knees.
Dad said she must be telling them secrets.
“I am,” she told him. “Good ones.”
Summer came. Dad could use his right hand well enough to hold the watering can again. He still asked me to review larger bills with him, but he opened the mail himself. If a document needed his signature, he read it at the kitchen table and asked questions until he understood it.
He never apologized for taking his time.
The restitution payments continued. The deed had been formally cleared, and Dad kept a current copy of the house record in his desk. Grace closed the last account Vivian had been able to access.
There were days when the case still entered our lives. A letter arrived. Grace called with an update. Lily heard Vivian’s name once and grew quiet for the rest of the afternoon.
We did not tell her to forget.
That night I sat on her bed, and she asked, “What if I’m scared again even though she can’t come here?”
“Then come find us,” I said.
“What if you’re asleep?”
“Wake us.”
“Even if it’s very late?”
“Especially then.”
She leaned against me.
A few weeks later, she woke us at two in the morning. I found her in the hall holding her fox. She had dreamed that the garage door would not open.
Daniel made her warm milk. We sat together until she was ready to sleep. In the morning, she went to school and asked Emma to save her a seat at lunch.
I saw how much courage that took.
Dad invited us to his house for Lily’s eighth birthday. She wanted a small dinner with Emma and Nora, strawberry cake, and the soft dinner rolls from the bakery near our old apartment.
Dad wrote it all down.
The day before the party, Mark called me. He had finished repaying the money he had spent from Dad’s account. The bank and Grace had confirmed it.
“I know that doesn’t fix what happened,” he said.
“It settles what you owed Dad.”
“I’d like to bring him a gift for Lily. I can leave it at the door.”
I thought about it before answering.
“Dad can decide whether to see you. Lily isn’t ready.”
“Okay.”
He did not argue. Dad later told me Mark had stopped by while Lily was at school. They had talked on the porch. Mark left a packet of sunflower seeds for next year. Dad put it away to give Lily when the time was right.
I was glad he had asked first.
On Lily’s birthday, the kitchen table was crowded. Emma wore a paper crown Lily had made for her. Nora brought lemonade. Daniel carried the cake while Dad lit the candles.
Lily stood between us, staring at the flames.
“Make a wish,” Emma said.
Lily closed her eyes.
I tried not to guess what she wanted. For a long time, I had wanted so many things on her behalf that I sometimes forgot to let her choose.
She blew out all eight candles. Everyone cheered.
Dad cut the cake. Lily gave him the first slice and claimed the second for herself.
After dinner, she took us to see the sunflowers. They stood taller than she did now, their faces turned toward the last light.
One stem had bent after a storm. Dad had tied it gently to a wooden stake. It was growing straight again.
Lily touched one leaf.
“Grandpa, I think they like it here.”
“I think so too.”
Nora and Emma went home at dusk. Daniel washed dishes while I gathered the candles from the table. Dad put the remaining rolls in a bag for Lily to take home.
I found her in the living room, looking through the family photographs on the shelf. She picked up one of Dad holding her as a baby.
“You were always there,” she told him.
“I wanted to be.”
She thought for a moment. “You’re here now.”
Dad sat beside her. I could see him holding back tears.
“I am,” he said. “And if you ever need me, you can call. Your mom and dad will help me get to you.”
Lily rested her head against his shoulder.
On the drive home, she stayed awake. She told Daniel about the tallest sunflower, asked whether Emma could visit again, and reminded me that she had saved a piece of cake for breakfast.
At our front door, she stopped.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“My wish came true already.”
I crouched beside her. “Do you want to tell me?”
“I wished everybody I love could eat at the same table.”
May you like
Daniel opened the door behind us. Warm light spilled across the porch. Lily ran inside to put her cake in the refrigerator, certain it would be waiting for her in the morning.
I followed her home.
