“Vanessa wants to ask Hazel something.”
My daughter’s face lit up like a sunrise. She nodded several times before remembering to speak.
“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, Vanessa!”
***
For months after that, our hallway became a rehearsal stage. Hazel scattered rose petals from a wicker basket, counting her steps and whispering to herself about posture.
My daughter’s face lit up.
My daughter crossed off the days until the wedding on the kitchen calendar with a purple marker.
“Mom, only 19 more days!”
“Mom, only 12 more!”
***
A week before the wedding, Hazel climbed onto the kitchen stool while I was chopping onions.
“When are we going dress shopping?”
I set down the knife. “I’ll call Vanessa tonight, honey.”
My daughter crossed off the days.
***
Vanessa laughed cheerfully, which should’ve been my first warning.
“Don’t worry. I already bought the perfect one. It’s a surprise.”
Hazel squealed!
I smiled for her. But that knot in my chest tightened another notch. I thought of Patrick’s birthday dinner in April, when Vanessa had made a show of handing every child at the table a slice of cake and skipped Hazel entirely, laughing that she “looked full.” Samuel, Patrick’s father, had watched the whole thing from across the table without touching his fork.
