All I could do was pay closer attention to the child standing in front of me now.
One month after I discovered the truth, Emily came downstairs wearing a blue sweater I hadn’t seen before.
“New sweater?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Hannah and I went shopping with her mom yesterday.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Yeah.”
She opened the refrigerator, took out some juice, and began telling me about a ridiculous argument she’d had with Hannah over which movie was better.
I listened.
Not because I was searching for hidden signs of trouble, but because I wanted her to know that I cared about the ordinary details of her life, too.
When she finished, she checked the time and grabbed her backpack.
“I’m going to be late.”
“You still have twelve minutes.”
“Mom!”
“All right, all right.”
She headed toward the door.
Then she stopped and turned around.
