“I spoke to my father.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“After Robert found me.”
“I called Dad and asked him directly.”
Her expression changed.
“He was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Losing me.”
And standing there beneath a buzzing streetlight, Amelia finally told me the rest.
Claire had been the center of her childhood.
When Amelia fell, she ran to her mother.
When nightmares woke her, she called for Claire.
Her father loved her, but he traveled constantly for work.
Claire was home.
Claire was safety.
Then Claire died unexpectedly.
Suddenly her father was alone with a grieving seven-year-old who cried every night for a mother who would never come back.
“He thought I’d choose you,” Amelia said.
I stared at her.
“Choose me over my own father?”
She nodded.
“Apparently, after Mom died, I kept asking for you.”
“When is Aunt Diane coming?”
“When can I go to Aunt Diane’s?”
