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“Uh huh.”
“Okay. Why don’t you go up to your room and lie down for a bit. I’ll be up to check on you later.”
She slid off the bench, then headed up the stairs to her pretty room with the green walls. But she couldn’t settle when she got there. Trying to take her daddy’s advice, she stretched out on the bed for a few minutes, but her mind just continued to race with unanswered questions. It didn’t take long for her to grow frustrated enough to roll off the bed.
Hidden away in the drawers of her desk was a stash of paper and various drawing utensils. She pulled out some paper and colored pencils and settled in at the desk.
Art had always been a passion of hers, and she funneled her grief and anger into her drawing. She was so focused on it, she didn’t notice Daddy’s presence in her room until he dropped a hand on her shoulder.
“What are you drawing, little one?”
“Just a picture,” she replied softly, her attention still zeroed in on her drawing.
“May I see?”
She covered the paper with her hands to hide it from his gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Well, if you want to show me later, I’d really like to see it.” He ran a soothing hand over her hair. “How are you feeling?”
Still not looking up at him, she shrugged and kicked her feet against the legs of the chair.
“Baby.” Daddy crouched by her chair and reached up to turn her face toward him. “I know you’re upset. It’s okay to be sad or angry.”
“I kind of feel both,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
Stroking her cheek, he offered her a sad smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
“You don’t think I’m silly for being so upset when I barely knew her?”
“Never.” Conviction rang clear in his voice. “Your ability to feel so much is part of what I love about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Do you want to keep drawing or do you want to come watch a movie with me?”
The drawing was pulling at her, begging her to finish, a feeling she hadn’t had in ages. “Can I finish it and then come downstairs?”
“Sure thing. I’m going to go get some work done, but you just come find me when you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair before he left the room. When he was gone, Olivia lifted her hands from the picture and studied it.
There was one emotion she hadn’t told her daddy about. And that emotion, more than any others, influenced her current artwork.
Guilt.
* * *
James glanced backat the doorway to his office before he opened his computer. He’d hoped Livvy would follow him downstairs after all. If she didn’t come down in an hour, he promised himself, he’d check on her.
Five minutes before his self-imposed deadline, she walked in. She barely made a sound, but he knew the instant she entered the room. When he looked up from his computer, she was standing in the doorway, holding a piece of paper.
She looked so lost and sad, exactly like a little girl trying to process emotions too big for her to really understand. Not that he blamed her—he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around what had happened, either. Was anyone ever big enough to really understand such tragedy?
“All done?” he asked gently.
She nodded, but didn’t move from her spot by the door. Without bothering to finish his email, James closed the lid of his laptop. His little girl needed him. Everything else could wait.
