She stepped closer. “Are you scared?”
He nodded. “A little.”
She hugged him then. Tight.
When she pulled back, she said in her serious seven-year-old voice, “No more secrets.”
Jim looked at me.
“No more secrets,” he promised.
Two days later, when Erin came to pick her up, Lily hugged him without hesitation. He handed her his old baseball cap, and she put it on like it was something sacred.
“See you soon,” she told him.
“I’ll be here,” he replied.
After they left, the house felt too quiet.
I drove to the cemetery and sat on a bench, letting the fear rise and settle and rise again. Then I stood up, because there was no other choice.
When I came home, Jim was at the kitchen table with his book again.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded, then shook my head. “No. But I will be.”
He gave me a tired smile. “Me too.”
I walked over and wrapped my arms around him.
He held me back, solid and warm.
For now, he was still here.
And for now, that was enough.
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