“Deal!” they both shouted, and raced each other to the back door.
Marcus followed them, pausing for a moment to look at the garden. He looked at the tomato plants, standing tall and strong, supported by the stakes but free to reach for the sun.
That evening, after two bedtime stories and a song, Marcus tucked James into bed. “Daddy?” James asked, his eyes heavy with sleep. “Are you going on a work trip tomorrow?”
“Nope,” Marcus said, smoothing his son’s hair. “I’m working from home tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.”
“Good,” James mumbled, already half-asleep. “Love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, son. More than anything.”
He stopped by Mary’s room. She was reading a book under her covers with a flashlight.
“Ahem,” Marcus said from the doorway. “Lights out, young lady.”
“Just one more page?” she pleaded.
“One more page,” he smiled. As he turned to leave, she called out.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I’m glad you came home early that day.”
Marcus felt his heart clench. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
“And I’m glad I was brave,” she added quietly.
Marcus walked back and sat on the edge of her bed. “Mary, you weren’t just brave. You were a hero. You saved yourself, and you saved your brother. I am the proudest dad in the entire world.”
Later that night, Marcus stood in his own room, looking out the window at the moonlit garden. He thought about how easy it was to be present but not really be there. He had been so lost in his own grief that he had almost lost everything else.
He heard a small cough from the hallway and saw Mary, holding her blanket. “Bad dream?” he asked.
She nodded. “The angry lady was in it.”
“It’s okay,” Marcus said, opening his arms. She climbed into bed with him. “You’re safe. It was just a dream. She can’t ever, ever hurt you again. I’m right here.”
Mary snuggled against his chest, her breathing already starting to even out. “I know, Daddy,” she whispered. “You’re a good listener now.”
Marcus held his daughter, his heart aching with a mix of old guilt and new, profound gratitude. Sometimes, the bravest thing a person can do is tell the truth. And sometimes, the most important thing an adult can do is finally, truly, stop and listen.
