Chapter 3
For the first time that day, I saw my father cry.
Not loudly.
Not the way I did.
He simply sat beside me with tears running down his face.
Then he wiped them away and stood.
"Lily, I'm going to take care of this."
I grabbed his hand.
"Don't leave me."
He knelt again.
"I'm not leaving you alone."
I looked toward Aunt Nia.
She smiled gently.
"I'll stay right here."
Dad nodded.
Then he called someone named Rachel Monroe.
I had heard her name before.
She was an attorney who helped Dad with his business.
He explained what happened.
I listened while he spoke about the clippers.
The recording.
The lie Vanessa told the event staff.
And the letters Mommy had written.
Then he became quiet.
"Rachel, I need to know what happened to Danielle's personal belongings."
He listened.
His expression changed.
"Are you sure?"
I watched him.
He looked toward Aunt Nia.
Then whispered, "I'll call you back."
When he ended the call, my aunt asked what happened.
Dad sat beside us.
"Danielle left instructions for the letters to be kept in a family memory box."
Aunt Nia nodded.
"I remember."
Dad looked down.
"Vanessa told me the box was damaged during the move."
My aunt's expression hardened.
"What move?"
"After the wedding."
Aunt Nia shook her head.
"Marcus, Danielle's things were packed in sealed storage containers."
Dad stared at her.
"How do you know?"
"Because I helped pack them."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Aunt Nia continued.
"I labeled every box."
Dad closed his eyes.
I looked between them.
I didn't understand everything.
But I knew one thing.
Mommy had written letters.
And Vanessa had them.
I reached for Dad's hand.
"Can we get them back?"
He looked at me.
His eyes filled again.
"Yes, sweetheart."
I swallowed.
"Promise?"
He hesitated.
Then answered carefully.
"I promise I'll do everything I can."
That made me feel a little better.
Then Aunt Nia asked about the gala.
Dad looked toward the door.
"The charity event isn't canceled."
My aunt frowned.
"Marcus, Lily is frightened."
He nodded.
"I know."
He looked at me.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to attend tonight."
I stared at him.
"But it's Mommy's party."
He smiled sadly.
"It is."
I looked down at my lavender dress.
It was wrinkled now.
There were tiny hairs stuck to the fabric.
I touched the pink beads remaining on one side.
"Mommy wanted kids to have art supplies."
Dad nodded.
"Yes."
My mother had loved painting.
Before she became sick, she taught art classes at a community center.
She believed every child deserved crayons, paint, paper, and a place to create.
After she died, Dad established a small scholarship program in her name.
Tonight's gala was supposed to raise money for that program.
I had practiced a short speech.
I was going to tell everyone about Mommy.
Then give the children at the center a box of new art supplies.
I looked at Dad.
"Can I still do my speech?"
His eyes filled.
"Only if you want to."
I nodded.
"I do."
Aunt Nia smiled.
"Then we'll find a way."
Dad looked toward her.
"Please help Lily get comfortable."
She nodded.
Then Dad turned toward me.
"No one is going to force you to show your hair tonight."
I thought about that.
For a moment, I wanted to wear a big hat.
Or hide beneath a blanket.
But then I remembered something Mommy used to say.
"Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared."
I whispered the words.
Dad looked at me.
"What was that?"
I swallowed.
"Mommy said being brave means doing something even when you're scared."
His face crumpled.
He hugged me.
"She did say that."
Aunt Nia wiped her eyes.
Then she reached for her phone.
"I know someone who can help."
Dad looked up.
"Who?"
"My friend Jasmine."
I frowned.
Aunt Nia smiled at me.
"She owns a salon. She knows how to care for natural hair."
I touched the shaved side of my head.
"Can she make it grow back?"
Aunt Nia shook her head gently.
"Not today, sweetheart."
My eyes filled.
"But she can help you feel comfortable while it grows."
I nodded slowly.
"Okay."
An hour later, Jasmine arrived.
She was a kind woman with long braids and a soft voice.
She didn't gasp when she saw my hair.
She didn't stare.
She simply knelt beside me.
"Hi, Lily."
I whispered, "Hi."
She smiled.
"Your aunt says you like pink beads."
I nodded.
"Mommy liked them too."
Her expression softened.
"Then we'll keep them if you want."
She showed me several options.
A soft headband.
A pretty scarf.
A short style that could make the uneven sections less noticeable.
She didn't touch my hair until I said yes.
That mattered.
Vanessa hadn't asked.
She'd grabbed me.
Jasmine waited for my permission.
I chose a lavender headband with tiny embroidered flowers.
She gently arranged my remaining curls.
Then showed me the mirror.
I stared at my reflection.
The shaved section was still visible.
But I didn't feel quite as frightened.
Jasmine smiled.
"How do you feel?"
I thought about it.
Then whispered, "Different."
She nodded.
"Different is okay."
I looked toward Aunt Nia.
She smiled through tears.
I touched the headband.
"Can I still wear Mommy's beads?"
"Of course."
Jasmine carefully placed a few pink beads into the curls near my forehead.
I smiled for the first time that day.
Then Dad came back.
He stopped in the doorway.
His eyes filled.
"Lily."
I looked down.
"Do I look okay?"
He crossed the room.
Then knelt beside me.
"You look like my beautiful daughter."
I hugged him.
For a moment, I felt safe.
Then his phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression hardened.
A message from Rachel.
He read it twice.
Then looked toward Aunt Nia.
"Vanessa's been accessing Danielle's storage records."
My aunt became still.
Dad continued.
"And Rachel found something else."
I watched him.
He looked toward me.
Then whispered, "Danielle's memory box was listed as transferred to a private storage unit last month."
My heart pounded.
May you like
Vanessa had moved Mommy's letters.
And she hadn't told anyone.
