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“I miss you like crazy, little girl.”
Tears filled her big blue eyes. An ocean in the sky.
“I’ll be home soon,” I promised again.
She stared back bleakly.
A hint of worry threaded its way through the truths I struggled to claim. “Do you miss me?”
Something came out of her mouth that I thought might be a laugh, but then her face crumpled, and she dipped her chin. Her palms came up to her cheeks.
When she faced me again, her eyes were dry, but her nose was red. She pressed her lips together. Nodded frantically.
Her eyes looked everywhere but at me.
That wasn’t a laugh. It was a sob.
My heart ached. My beautiful girl didn’t like anyone to see her cry.
“I’ll be home soon, Hope,” I promised softly.
She nodded again, her throat working frantically. Finally, she turned to the camera, and held up her fist for a virtual bump.
I laughed out loud. “God, I miss you.”
“Me, too,” she croaked, and ended the call.
I put my phone down. Breathed in the smell of woodsmoke and mountains through the open window. “Please, God, give me a chance to bring her here to meet them in person.”
It was time to go home.
“I need answers.”
The plane had barely touched the tarmac when I messaged my father with a request to meet.
He answered immediately, “When and where?”
Which was how I found myself sitting with him in my kitchen only a few hours after landing while Sia slept.
The surprise I found at home stunned me.
With a sleeping Sia in my arms, I barely stopped to study the frames lining the walls in the downstairs hallway.
In Sia’s room, an obnoxious pile of pink, purple, and florals covered the change table. I lay a conked out Sia down in her crib and carefully sifted through the pile.
Matching outfits. Size 2 and 4.
Little shoes to match.
Two baby dolls in strollers. One pink. One blue.
Two teddy bears. One with a yellow bow, one with green.
I rubbed the satin bow between my fingers. Soft. Light. Like hope. Like Hope.
Flipping the baby monitor on, I gently closed her door.
Frames lined the upstairs hallway as well. Half of them housed pictures. In one, Hope laughed at me, her arms akimbo, blouse unbuttoned scandalously low.
