Chapter 6
Madison woke crying at two in the morning.
Not from fever.
From cold.
She had dreamed she was still inside the pool.
I carried her downstairs wrapped in a blanket because she refused to sleep alone.
We sat in the dark kitchen.
She drank warm milk.
Then asked:
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Is Grandma mad because Mommy gave me trees?”
My chest tightened.
“Who told you that?”
“Grandma.”
Of course.
“What else did she say?”
Madison picked at the blanket.
“She said Mommy stole it first.”
I felt something ugly move through me.
Emily inherited the orchard from her mother.
Nothing stolen.
Carol had been rewriting history to a three-year-old.
“She said Daddy won’t share.”
I crouched closer.
“Listen to me.”
Madison looked up.
“Those trees are yours because Mommy wanted them to be yours.”
“All?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened.
“That’s a lot.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Can Grandpa have one?”
Dennis stood in the hallway.
He heard.
His face crumpled.
I looked at him.
“That’s up to her one day.”
Madison thought.
“Maybe little one.”
Dennis covered his mouth.
The generosity of children is embarrassing when adults are fighting over acres.
Madison continued:
“Grandma said if I’m good, you sign.”
My smile disappeared.
“What does good mean?”
“Clean pool.”
“Anything else?”
“No crying.”
Of course.
“And?”
“Tell Daddy Grandma is nice.”
I looked toward Dennis.
He closed his eyes.
Carol had not only used Madison as leverage.
She tried to recruit her as a messenger.
A sick child scrubbing concrete so she could earn food, warmth, and the right sentence to carry to me.
I kissed Madison’s forehead.
“You never have to work for me to believe you.”
She frowned.
“Even if dirty?”
“Even if dirty.”
“Even if crying?”
“Yes.”
She leaned against me.
Then whispered:
“Grandma said Mommy cried too.”
I went still.
“When?”
“Trees.”
Dennis looked up.
May you like
That sentence meant nothing to Madison.
To us, it opened another door.
