Chapter 17
Five years after the engagement reception, Nessa was eight.
We attended another party in a hotel conservatory.
Different hotel.
Same kind of gift table.
Someone had placed a decorative trunk beside it.
Of course.
Life has terrible timing.
Nessa noticed.
I noticed her noticing.
She walked over.
Lifted the lid.
Inside were wedding favors.
She took one.
Then another.
I almost laughed.
“Only one.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because stealing is frowned upon.”
She put one back dramatically.
Good.
Across the room, guests talked.
Music played.
Nobody watched the trunk.
Nobody needed to.
Nessa came to stand beside me.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“You’re staring again.”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
Fair.
Five years earlier, I opened a trunk and found my daughter curled inside because adults had decided her absence would make my marriage easier.
Corisandra wanted a clean beginning.
Evelyn wanted orderly transition.
Both forgot that children are not furniture you move before guests arrive.
Nessa reached for my hand.
Not from fear.
Habit.
I took it.
She looked toward the dessert table.
“Can I go?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
She ran.
No driver waiting.
No hidden destination.
No adult deciding where she belonged next.
May you like
Just a child crossing a bright room because she wanted cake.
That was enough.
