“Audrey’s never acted like this.”
“She’s growing up.”
The following Thursday, Derek pulled into our driveway while I was taking the trash outside.
I wanted to believe him.
Over the next two weeks, things worsened. When I offered new ballet shoes, she snapped, “Can you stop trying to fix everything?” I apologized, bewildered.
The following Thursday, Derek pulled into our driveway while I was taking the trash outside.
Audrey was leaning through his open driver’s-side window, gripping his sleeve.
“But you promised you’d talk to her,” I heard her say.
Audrey turned, released his sleeve, and hurried toward the house.
“Audrey, not now,” Derek replied.
He noticed me before she did.
Audrey turned, released his sleeve, and hurried toward the house.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said with a smile. “She’s just upset we didn’t stop at the drive-thru.”
“She has dinner waiting.”
