Sophie drank too quickly, made a face at the cold, and then laughed.
Within minutes, both girls had forgotten their disappointment and raced back toward the shallow end.
I watched them enter the pool again.
Dolly took Sophie’s hands and patiently showed her how to float.
My knees felt weak with relief.
Terry looked at Grace, who had begun fussing again.
“Would you like me to hold her while you rest your arms?”
I hesitated.
He smiled reassuringly.
“I have three younger sisters. Babies don’t frighten me.”
I carefully placed Grace in his arms and handed him the bottle she had refused earlier.
He shifted her slightly, supporting her head, and offered the bottle.
To my amazement, Grace accepted it.
“Well,” I murmured. “Apparently she just wanted a change of scenery.”
“Or a different waiter,” Terry joked.
I laughed.
It was the first real laugh I had managed all day.
After a few minutes, Grace’s eyelids fluttered closed. She fell asleep against Terry’s chest, one tiny hand resting near his name tag.
Patricia sat beside me beneath the cabana.
For a while, we watched the girls swim.
Then she said, “I raised my niece.”
I turned toward her.
“My sister died when my niece was six,” Patricia explained. “Her father wasn’t capable of caring for her, so she came to live with me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. She’s grown now. She teaches third grade.”
A proud smile touched Patricia’s face.
“When I first became responsible for her, I was terrified. I didn’t know whether I could give her what she needed. Then I read that newspaper story about Anthony’s foundation.”
She glanced toward the office.
“I wrote to one of the grandmothers featured in the article. We exchanged letters for years. She was the woman standing beside Anthony in that photograph.”
Patricia’s eyes became distant.
“She told me that love did not require perfection. It required staying.”
Those words entered my heart gently.
Love did not require perfection.
It required staying.
Derek had left.
Abby had been taken from us.
But I had stayed.
Through courtrooms, unpaid bills, feverish nights, dirty laundry, bottles, school forms, and moments when grief made it difficult to breathe, I had stayed.
Perhaps that counted for more than I had allowed myself to believe.
Patricia placed a hand over mine.
“That clipping gave me hope during the hardest years of my life. When I saw Anthony today, I wanted to believe the man in the article still existed.”
“Maybe he does,” I said. “Maybe he’s simply buried beneath whatever made him so bitter.”
“You’re generous to say that after the way he treated you.”
“I’m not saying what he did was acceptable.”
I looked toward Dolly and Sophie.
“But my granddaughters have already lost too many people. I don’t want them to believe everyone who becomes lost must remain that way forever.”
Patricia nodded.
Then she reached into her pocket and handed me a card.
“My direct number is written on the back. Bring the girls here any weekend. The day passes will be taken care of.”
I stared at her.
“I couldn’t accept that.”
“You can, and you will.”
Her tone made me smile.
“You sound like Dolly.”
“Then Dolly is clearly very wise.”
