Chapter 8
Our normal day started with pancakes.
Dad burned the first three.
Grandma laughed so hard she had to sit down.
I stood beside the stove wearing a yellow apron that was much too big for me.
"Daddy, you're terrible at this."
He looked offended.
"Excuse me. I am an award-winning pancake chef."
"What award?"
"The Marcus Carter Excellence in Pancake Effort Award."
I burst out laughing.
He bowed.
Grandma shook her head.
"That award exists only in your imagination."
Dad pointed his spatula at her.
"Jealousy is an ugly thing, Mother."
We laughed again.
For an hour, nobody mentioned Vanessa.
Nobody talked about money.
Nobody looked worried.
We were just a family eating breakfast.
I hadn't realized how much I'd missed that.
Afterward, Dad took me to the park.
We bought ice cream.
We fed ducks.
He pushed me on the swings until my legs felt like they could touch the clouds.
Then we sat beneath a big oak tree.
I rested my head against his arm.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Do you think Mommy can see us?"
He looked toward the sky.
"I don't know exactly how those things work."
I smiled a little.
"But I like to believe her love is still with us."
I nodded.
"Me too."
He took a breath.
"Your mother would have loved today."
"Because of the pancakes?"
He laughed.
"She definitely would have laughed at those."
I smiled.
Then I asked something I'd been holding inside for months.
"Did you love Vanessa more than Mommy?"
Dad became still.
"No, sweetheart."
"Then why did you marry her?"
He looked down at his hands.
"After your mother died, I missed having someone to share my life with."
I listened.
"Vanessa seemed kind. She made me believe we could be a happy family."
"But we weren't."
"No."
His voice became quiet.
"I made a mistake."
I looked up.
"Can grown-ups make big mistakes?"
"Very big ones."
"Even good grown-ups?"
"Especially when they stop paying attention to what matters."
I thought about that.
"Are you still a good daddy?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"I hope I can become the daddy you deserve."
I sat up.
"You already are my daddy."
He smiled sadly.
"I know. But being your father means more than loving you. It means protecting you and listening when something is wrong."
I reached for his hand.
"You're listening now."
He squeezed my fingers.
"And I won't stop."
For the first time, I believed that something good could grow out of something terrible.
Over the next several weeks, our lives began changing.
Dad worked with his attorneys.
Vanessa's financial activity was investigated.
Tasha provided statements and records.
Andre Williams gave an account of his past relationship with Vanessa.
I started meeting with Ms. Harris, the school counselor.
At first, I barely spoke.
She had a small office with colorful pillows and shelves full of books.
She never forced me to answer questions.
Sometimes we drew pictures.
Sometimes we talked about school.
Sometimes I cried.
One afternoon, she asked me to draw myself.
I drew a tiny girl standing beside a huge house.
Ms. Harris studied it.
"Can you tell me about this picture?"
I shrugged.
"That's me."
"And the house?"
"Home."
She pointed gently.
"Why is Maya so small?"
I stared at the paper.
I didn't know.
Then I whispered, "Because Vanessa made me feel that way."
Ms. Harris nodded.
"How big do you want Maya to be?"
I thought about that.
Then I took another sheet of paper.
I drew myself standing in front of the house.
This time, I made myself taller.
I added Dad beside me.
And Grandma.
And Mom's favorite yellow flowers.
When Ms. Harris saw the drawing, she smiled.
"What changed?"
I studied the picture.
"I'm not hiding anymore."
She smiled.
"That's important."
At home, Dad put the picture on the refrigerator.
Right beside my spelling test.
I got every word right.
He made such a big celebration that Grandma accused him of being dramatic.
Dad didn't care.
He bought me a little cake.
Across the top, it said:
WE ARE PROUD OF YOU, MAYA.
I stared at it for a long time.
"What?" Dad asked.
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
Vanessa used to say I shouldn't expect praise for ordinary things.
She said children didn't deserve celebrations just for doing what they were supposed to do.
Dad cut me the first slice.
I began crying.
He immediately put down the knife.
"Sweetheart?"
I laughed through my tears.
"I'm happy."
He hugged me.
"Then these are good tears."
I nodded.
They were.
Still, not everything became easy.
Some nights, I dreamed Vanessa was standing in my doorway.
Sometimes I woke up worried that Dad had changed his mind.
Once, I hid a sandwich in my backpack because I was afraid dinner might be taken away.
Grandma found it.
She didn't scold me.
She sat beside me and asked why it was there.
When I explained, she hugged me.
Then she showed me the pantry.
"Sweetheart, food isn't something you have to earn in this house."
I stared at the shelves.
"Even if I get in trouble?"
"Even then."
"What if I break something?"
"We'll clean it up."
"What if I make somebody mad?"
"We'll talk."
I started crying.
Grandma held me.
I realized I had been living with rules nobody else could see.
Rules that made every mistake feel dangerous.
Slowly, I began learning new ones.
I could ask for help.
I could be unhappy without being punished.
I could say no.
I could make mistakes.
And I could still be loved.
Then, one Friday afternoon, Dad came home holding a small velvet box.
His expression was strange.
Sad.
Happy.
Nervous.
All at once.
"Maya," he said gently, "I have something for you."
I looked at the box.
My heart began pounding.
He sat beside me.
"We recovered some personal belongings from the house through the proper arrangements."
I stared.
He opened the lid.
Inside lay a silver heart necklace.
My mother's necklace.
I covered my mouth.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered, "You found it."
Dad nodded.
Tears filled his eyes.
"It was kept with some of the other items Vanessa had moved."
I touched the little silver heart.
Mom used to wear it every day.
I remembered playing with it when she held me.
Dad lifted the necklace.
"Would you like me to put it on?"
I nodded.
He fastened it gently around my neck.
The heart rested against my sweater.
May you like
I closed my eyes.
And for one beautiful moment, I felt like Mom was hugging me again.
