Daniel finished.
No one spoke for several moments.
Finally Margaret smiled through tears.
“That sounds like him.”
Mark looked at his mother.
“Why didn’t he ever tell me those things?”
“He tried.”
“I didn’t make it easy.”
“No.”
Margaret reached across the table.
“But you’re listening now.”
The trust did not solve Emily and Mark’s marriage.
That surprised Mark.
Perhaps part of him still believed every difficult story contained one discovery that made everything simpler.
Money did help.
They paid the remaining medical bills.
They placed most of the trust into protected accounts for the girls.
They refinanced nothing.
They bought nothing extravagant.
Emily insisted they make no major financial decisions for six months.
Mark agreed.
And life continued.
Grace learned to roll over first.
Lily discovered that making raspberry noises caused adults to laugh.
Faith developed an extraordinary fascination with ceiling fans.
They slept badly.
Then better.
Then badly again.
Mark returned to work on a reduced schedule.
Emily remained with Claire until the girls were almost four months old.
One Sunday afternoon, Mark arrived for his usual visit and found several boxes near the front door.
His heart jumped.
He looked at Claire.
“Is Emily moving?”
“Yes.”
He tried not to show too much hope.
“Home?”
Claire gave him an unreadable look.
“You should ask her.”
Emily came downstairs carrying Faith.
Mark took the baby automatically.
“Claire says you’re moving.”
“I am.”
He waited.
Emily adjusted Faith’s sock.
“I found a rental.”
His hope fell so visibly that Emily almost smiled.
“Okay.”
“It’s ten minutes from the house.”
“Okay.”
“I signed a six-month lease.”
Mark nodded.
“That sounds good.”
“You don’t sound like you think it’s good.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’m trying to learn the difference between supporting your decision and pretending I don’t have feelings about it.”
Emily blinked.
“That’s annoyingly mature.”
“I’ve been practicing.”
She laughed.
Mark looked down at Faith.
Then back at Emily.
“Do you need help moving?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Really?”
“You own a truck.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t get sentimental.”
