Harper suggested decorating for Halloween.
Outside the courthouse, he pointed at me.
“You’ll regret this. You’ll come crawling back on your knees begging me to forgive you!”
I walked away.
October brought a little peace.
Harper suggested decorating for Halloween.
“Like we used to,” she said, then added, “Before everybody got mad.”
One evening, while I was tucking Lucy into bed, she caught my wrist.
Mason, eleven, made cardboard gravestones. Eight-year-old Harper cut paper ghosts. Lucy, who was five, insisted her pumpkin needed a smile because “scary faces make the candy nervous.”
One evening, while I was tucking Lucy into bed, she caught my wrist.
“Are we still a family?”
“Always.”
“Even when Daddy lives with Grandma?”
“You’re allowed to ask me anything, buddy.”
“Even then.”
Later, Mason asked whether Dad was coming for Halloween.
“He hasn’t told me yet.”
“He said you won’t let him.”
I sat beside him.
