When she opened them again, she no longer needed a photograph.
For an hour, Thomas answered her questions.
Yes, he had chosen to disappear.
Yes, he had contacted Evelyn.
No, Evelyn had never asked him to reveal himself to Sarah.
Yes, he knew his daughter believed he was dead.
And yes, he had agreed to meet Lily in secret because he was afraid Sarah would refuse him any contact.
Sarah stayed silent after that last answer.
Then she said:
“You were right to be afraid.”
Thomas lowered his head.
“Will I be able to see you again?”
Sarah stood.
“Not until I know what I want.”
He didn’t follow her.
Over the next few weeks, our house slowly returned to its rhythm.
The gate code was changed.
The school received a new list of approved adults.
Evelyn sent Sarah several messages. Sarah opened only some of them.
Thomas wrote one letter.
Not to Lily.
To Sarah.
She put it in a drawer and left it unopened for nine days.
Then she read it alone.
I didn’t ask what it said.
Chicago waited.
The acquisition closed a week later.
The night before my rescheduled trip, I was in the kitchen when Lily came in holding her panda mug.
She placed a small folded piece of paper on my suitcase.
“This is for the plane.”
I opened it.
In purple letters, she had written:
WAFFLES > TOAST.
Underneath, she had written all ten words from her spelling test.
Every one of them was correct.
“You’re coming back Friday?” she asked.
“Before dinner.”
She thought for a second.
Then she nodded, perfectly calm, and slipped her drawing into the outside pocket of my suitcase.
Under the table, the dog was already waiting for his piece of bacon.
Lily secretly dropped one for him, picked up her panda mug, and smiled as though the morning could finally begin again.
