Chapter 17
When Noah turned five, he asked why Grandma Linda was not at his party.
The room went quiet.
Emily looked at me.
Michael, invited for cake, lowered his eyes.
I knelt in front of Noah.
“Grandma Linda hurt people and broke very serious rules. She is not allowed to be near us.”
He frowned.
“Did she hurt me?”
“She tried to take you away when you were a baby.”
He looked at Emily.
“She stopped her,” I said.
Noah’s eyes widened.
“Emmy saved me?”
Emily blushed.
“Mom did too.”
Noah threw his arms around her.
“My hero.”
Emily pretended to groan.
But she hugged him back.
Michael watched with tears in his eyes.
After the party, he helped clean up.
He paused by the kitchen door.
“I hate what my mother stole from them.”
I rinsed a plate.
“So do I.”
“And from you.”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No defense.
No collapse.
Just truth.
That night, Emily asked if being a hero meant she always had to be brave.
“No,” I said. “It means you were brave once when it mattered. Now you get to be a kid.”
She leaned against me.
“Good. Because I hate spiders.”
May you like
I kissed her forehead.
“Then I’ll handle spiders.”
