“That didn’t stop you from watching her from your car.”
He said nothing.
I thought about Ellie drawing pictures of her parents in heaven.
About her asking why she didn’t have aunts, uncles, or cousins.
About all the birthdays and Christmas mornings when she’d looked around our little kitchen and wished there were more people to celebrate with.
“You let a child feel unwanted because you were afraid to apologize,” I said.
Richard’s shoulders shook.
Finally, I asked, “Nathan told me you don’t want to meet Ellie. Is that true?”
He closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Then why did you tell them that?”
“Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”
I waited.
Richard reached toward the edge of the blanket.
“Please,” he whispered. “I know I have no right to ask. But I don’t have much time.”
He looked at me.
“Could I see her? Just once?”
