“We’re coming, Ellie,” Daniel said. We pulled up to the house ten minutes later. I barely let the car roll to a stop before I opened the door.
Ellie was standing near the fence, holding her little gold-wrapped gift like it was the only solid thing in the world. My little girl’s cheeks were blotchy and wet, her eyes red and swollen. Her sparkly dress had grass stains along the hem.
The sight of her cracked something open in me. Daniel was out the car before I could unbuckle my safety belt. He ran straight to her and dropped to his knees in the grass.
“Ellie,” he breathed, scooping her into his arms. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. We’re here now.”
She melted into him, gripping his shirt with both fists, and let out the kind of sob that kids try to hold in until their safe person arrives.
I didn’t even stop. I stormed toward the house, every step fueled by something primal. Inside, Carol was seated at the table, calmly eating a slice of birthday cake.
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