didn’t leave because she wanted to. She didn’t have a choice. And if Dad loves someone else, and I love her, too, it’s like we’re forgetting Mom ever existed.”
“Oh, baby.” I pull her in for a big hug and feel her small body loosen as she relaxes into me. “I wish you’d told me you felt this way.”
“I didn’t want you to think that I don’t like Nora. I do. It’s just sad. I wish I knew what Mom would think about all this.”
An idea grabs hold, and I pull back, smiling at my daughter.
“You can. Hold on.”
I hurry to the bedroom and retrieve the letter Darcy wrote to me, taking it back to the kitchen.
“Your mom wrote me a letter. Here.”
“I can read it?”
“Sure, I think it’ll help you feel better.”
Nora and I watch her as she skims through the letter, and when she’s done, she folds it and sets it on the table.
“So she knew that you would find someone else someday.”
“Of course she did. Sweetheart, I was young when your mom passed away. I know it seems like I’m really old to you, but I’m not. Not really. She knew that after we’d healed, someone would come along and join our family. She wouldn’t be mad that Nora’s with us. She liked Nora very much, actually.”
“You knew my mom?” Gabby asks Nora. “I didn’t know that.”
“I didn’t know her superwell,” Nora admits. “But yes, I’d met her several times. I worked for your dad for almost five years before she got sick.”
“Oh.” Gabby frowns and takes a bite of chicken. “Well, I didn’t know any of this.”
“Because you weren’t talking to us and asking questions,” I remind her and watch as she smiles sheepishly.
“Yeah.”
“This is all new,” Nora says as she pushes away her empty plate. “For all of us. And it’s okay to wonder if it’s the right thing, or what’s going to happen in the future. Any and all of your feelings are valid. You just have to know that keeping them pent up inside you is only going to lead to what happened over the past couple of weeks, and that’s no fun for anyone.”
“I know,” she says and nods. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings?” Nora asks, confused.
“Yeah. Because I thought by talking about all this, it would hurt your feelings.”
I sit back, watching as these two incredibly important females in my life talk it out.
“No,” Nora says thoughtfully. “Conversations don’t hurt my feelings. Saying things to hurt me on purpose, throwing things, threats—those are the things that hurt my feelings and make me wonder if I’m cut out for this at all.”
What? I stare at her in shock.
“What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my voice calm.
“Well, parenting is hard, obviously. And last night, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’m the person you both need to be in your lives. Gabby’s been so unhappy, I thought maybe I’m just not a good fit here.”
“It’s not you,” Gabby rushes to assure her. “Honest, it’s all my fault.”
And mine, for not encouraging and reinforcing strongly enough that Nora’s exactly the right person to be in our lives.
I plan to fix that, immediately.
“Thanks for saying so,” Nora says. “Love you, kiddo.”
“I love you, too.” Gabby hurries over to hug Nora tight. “I’m sorry I’m a jerk.”
“You’re not always a jerk.”
The Gabby hurricane seems to have passed. It’s been several days since her apology, and for the most part, things have gone back to normal.
It’s a huge weight that’s been lifted from my shoulders. I missed my good-natured, happy girl.
I also made some calls this morning. First, to Jacob’s Ladder. I informed him that he’d be facing criminal charges regarding a minor, and then I contacted the police. It seems his Instagram handle isn’t new to them, but I can do my best to make sure he doesn’t target any more young girls.
It’s the end of a successful workday. Nora and I have passed the Dickinson file back and forth throughout the day, flirting and being silly.
It’s fun to play with her.
In fact, I think I’ll play with her some more.
I pick up the phone and call for her to come into my office.
“Close and lock the door, please.” Nora turns to me in surprise but follows my orders and then saunters over to my desk, walking on those heels with the red bows on them.
They’re my favorite.
I can’t resist her when she wears them.
And she knows it.
“You rang?” she asks primly, folding