“Of course, sweetheart.”
She named him Mr. Buttons.
For a while, we talked about ordinary things.
Her favorite cartoons.
The pancakes I would make when she came home.
The butterfly garden she wanted to plant in my backyard.
Then she grew quiet.
“Grandma?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Is Daddy mad at me?”
My heart broke.
“Why would you think that?”
She looked down at her blanket.
“Because I woke up.”
I held her hand.
“Chloe, listen to me carefully. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”
She studied my face.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to stay asleep like he told me.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“You never have to do that again. You’re safe now.”
She cried against my shoulder for several minutes.
I didn’t tell her everything investigators had discovered.
She was only six.
She deserved safety, reassurance, and the freedom to heal without carrying the burden of adult wrongdoing.
