PART 9:

When the funeral director arrived, Daniel stayed in the kitchen. When Victoria signed papers, her hand barely shaking, he was there. When she hung up the phone after calling the last name on her list and finally finally let herself stop, he was still there. I don’t know what to do now, she said quietly. You don’t have to know.

I’ve been waiting for this for 3 years, and now it’s here, and I just feel nothing. That’s normal. Is it? I don’t know, but it sounds right. Victoria laughed, sharp and broken. You’re terrible at this. I know. She looked at him across the table and something in her face shifted. Why are you here, Daniel? Because I promised.

You promised a man who didn’t know who I was. I promised anyway. The weight of that hung between them. Victoria’s eyes filled with tears she wouldn’t let fall. I don’t want you here out of obligation, she said. That’s not why I’m here. Then why? Daniel didn’t have a good answer. Or maybe he had too many answers and didn’t know which one was true.

So he just said because you shouldn’t be alone. Victoria broke then. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just quietly. Her shoulders shaking, her hands covering her face. Daniel stood, moved around the table, and pulled her into a hug that felt awkward and necessary at the same time. She cried against his chest, and he held her, and neither of them said anything because there was nothing to say.

The funeral was small. Victoria had arranged everything with the same precision she applied to everything else. A simple service at the church her father had attended before the disease took him, a burial at the cemetery on the edge of town. No reception, no gathering, just a few people paying respects to a man most of them barely remembered.

Daniel stood in the back with Emma, who’d insisted on coming despite his protests. She wore a black dress they’d bought at a thrift store. Too big in the shoulders, but close enough. She held his hand through the whole service, squeezing tight during the parts that felt too heavy. Victoria sat in the front row, alone. Her posture was perfect.

Her face was composed. She looked like she was attending a business meeting, not burying her father. When it was over, people filed out slowly, offering condolences. Victoria accepted with gracious nods and tight smiles. Daniel waited until the church was empty, then walked up to her. “You did good,” he said. “It’s just a funeral, not exactly complicated.

” “Still.” Victoria looked at Emma, managed a small smile. “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi,” Emma said quietly. “I’m sorry about your dad.” “Thank you. Mm, my mom’s gone, too. It’s sad.” Victoria’s expression softened in a way Daniel hadn’t seen since they were kids. “Yeah.” “It is.” “But dad says it gets less sad, eventually.

” “Does it?” Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. He might be lying.” Victoria laughed. Actually, laughed. It was brief and fragile, but real. “He might be.” They stood there in the empty church, the three of them. And for a moment it felt like something other than grief. Not happiness, just less alone. Outside the sky had cleared, the afternoon sun bright and indifferent.

Victoria walked to her car, then stopped. “I don’t want to go back to that house,” she said. “Then don’t,” Daniel replied. “Where else would I go?” “Anywhere. The park, the diner. Hell, sit in my broken-down house. At least it’s a different kind of depressing.” Victoria smiled faintly. “That’s a terrible sales pitch.” “I’m not selling anything.

” She looked at him, then at Emma, then back at him. “Okay.” They ended up at the creek, the one they used to go to as kids, where the water moved slow and the trees bent over like they were listening. Emma ran ahead, finding rocks to throw, her dress getting dirty in ways Daniel would worry about later.

Victoria sat on the bank, her shoes off, her feet in the water. Daniel sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. “I used to come here when things got bad,” Victoria said. “When my mom left, when my dad started drinking, when I couldn’t figure out how to fix things that weren’t fixable.” “You still came here after I left?” “For a while.

” “Then it just made me sad, so I stopped.” Daniel picked up a rock, turned it over in his hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” “You already apologized.” “I know, I’m doing it again.” Victoria looked at him, and her expression was softer than it had been in days. “I’m sorry I kept that stupid box.” “Don’t be.” “It wasn’t stupid.

It was a plastic ring and a piece of paper written by 12-year-olds. It was a promise. That’s not stupid.” “Promises made by kids don’t count.” “Maybe they should.” Victoria was quiet for a long moment, watching Emma chase something through the grass. “Your former boss called me.” Daniel went still. What? Yesterday, before the funeral, he said he’d been trying to reach you.

Wanted to offer you a contract job. High paying, six months in Chicago, maybe longer. How did he get your number? I’m not hard to find. She turned to look at him. Are you going to take it? Daniel’s chest tightened. He’d seen the missed calls, had been avoiding them. Because taking the job meant stability. Meant Emma’s future.

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