Nick held up the paper.
It was a crayon drawing. A house. A huge sun. Three children. Two grown-ups. And one woman in a blue dress in the middle.
I knelt down carefully.
At the top, in crooked letters, it said: WELCOME GRANDMA.
“I should have opened the door the first time,” he said.
I looked at him.
Then Emma stepped around him and said, “I was hiding very quietly and then I saw you leave and I cried a lot.”
I knelt down carefully.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
On the drive back, Nick didn’t crowd the silence.
She threw her arms around my neck.
“You came back,” she said into my shoulder.
“I did.”
She pulled back and frowned. “Are you staying for cake?”
I laughed through tears. “Yes. I think I am.”
Linda came out first.
At one red light, Nick said, “I don’t expect this to be fixed today.”
“Good,” I said. “Because it isn’t.”
“I know.”
That was the first honest conversation we’d had in a long time.
When we pulled into the driveway, the front door opened before I reached the steps.
Linda came out first, eyes red, holding one side of a handmade banner. The boys crowded behind her, bouncing and waving.
I wasn’t ready to rescue anyone from discomfort.
