He looked at the candlesticks.
“I believed that I was failing everyone.”
The honesty in his voice left no room for anger.
“I should have asked you,” he said. “I should have read the forms. I should have come here when she told me you were forgetting things.”
“You should have.”
His eyes shone.
“I am sorry, Mom.”
I wanted to reach for him, but my hands stayed in my lap.
“Sorry is not a door you walk through once,” I said. “It is a room you have to keep entering.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“You will need to tell Josephine everything you remember. Not what protects Petra. Not what protects you.”
“I will.”
“And you will tell the children that adults argued, but they are safe.”
“I will.”
“And you will not bring Petra back here tonight.”
He flinched.
“I won’t.”
The children came into the dining room carrying their drawings. Mara placed hers beside my plate. It showed a crooked house under a yellow moon, with five people standing outside.
“Where are you?” I asked.
She pointed to a figure in the window.
“You’re inside.”
“Why?”
“Because you live there.”
Her brother, Owen, leaned over the picture.
“Grandma is making hot chocolate.”
“I am,” I said.
That was the first thing that felt normal.
While the children drank from their mugs, Dex called Josephine’s office and left a message confirming he would meet her in the morning. He also called Petra. She did not answer.
At ten, Martin sent a text.
