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“I wish Dad was here too.” Claire’s eyes filled. “He loved me. He trusted me.”
“He indulged you too much.” Rachel dropped her head in her hands, and I scooted closer, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“He is ... was the best father ever.” Claire shook her head, dislodging tears. Her eyes glistened.
The unspoken was obvious. Daniel was the beloved parent, and Rachel wasn’t.
“What if you’re pregnant?” Rachel asked, staying on topic, though it was obvious she was hurting.
“I’m not pregnant,” Claire said through clenched teeth. “I can’t do this right now. I’m tired.”
“And you think I’m not tired?” Rachel’s voice rose even higher. “Night after night, I go to work and put on a smile, when all I really want to do is crawl back into bed and cry.”
At that, I decided it was time for me to intervene.
“Oh, Rachel.” I stood and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re both tired.”
It broke my heart to see them hurting each other when they should be comforting one another. As I glanced back and forth between them, my eyes brimmed with emotion like theirs did.
“And you’re both grieving. You should lean on each other, instead of tearing each other down.”
Claire was the first to acknowledge that my words had any impact. She aimed her gaze at her mom. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m going to get ready for bed.”
“We’re not through discussing this, young lady.” Rachel’s voice revealed the strain of her worry. Her body too. Exhausted, she swayed, and I caught her.
“It can wait until the morning, Rach.” I put my arm around her. “Claire’s here. She came home.” We both watched Claire escape into the bathroom. “Don’t clamp down too hard on her, or you’ll lose her.”
“Like I lost you for all those years?” Rachel asked softly.
“Yes, exactly like that,” I said, though I was to blame for the distance I’d put between us.
“Okay, Addy.” Rachel sighed. The expectant way she looked at me made it seem like she wanted me to say more. “You’re probably right.”
• • •
In the morning when I had everything ready, I started banging dishes around in the small galley kitchen to wake Claire. Her mom was still asleep in the bedroom, and I wanted to talk to my niece alone.
“Morning, sunshine.” I turned toward Claire and smiled at her, my short pink robe swishing around my thighs.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
Sitting up on the couch, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned. When she picked up the aroma of fresh pancakes, her stomach grumbled so loud, I heard it across the room.
“What time is it?”
“Early. I made pancakes. Wash your face, get your clothes on, and come eat with me.”
“Okay.” She glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Is Mom up?”
“No. It’s just me and you.” Lowering my voice, I laid it out. “Your mom is exhausted. I told her to sleep in and take the day off. But I want to talk to you privately before you go to school.”
“Okay,” Claire said, though she looked nervous.
Throwing the covers back, she climbed out of the unfolded sleeper couch and padded toward the bathroom. I heard the water running. When she emerged a few moments later, she had her glasses on and was dressed in jeans and a faded Anthem tee.
I was already perched on one of the stools at the bar. Running her fingers through the tangles in her loose hair, she sat beside me.
“How’d you sleep?” I asked, watching her grab a paper napkin that she arranged on her lap.
