“Yes.”
“And you still want responsibility for Nora?”
Nora’s eyes were wide, but she didn’t beg. That hurt more.
“Emily loved her,” I said. “I won’t let the world take both of my girls.”
Guardianship came first. Adoption came later.
On the hearing day, Ronald blocked my front door.
That hurt more.
“People say you’re replacing Emily.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing?”
I tightened my tie. “Protecting the girl Emily loved. She’s lost, and she’s lonely. I see myself in that loneliness.”
***
After court, Nora whispered, “Can I call you Dad? Or is it Mr. Ross still?”
I pulled over before answering.
“People say you’re replacing Emily.”
“Only if you mean it, sweetheart. No pressure, no obligation.”
“I do,” she said.
“Then yes.”
Ten years passed.
I kept searching for my daughter, but I also raised my new one.
At college graduation, I clapped until my hands stung. When she came off the stage, she handed me her cap.
“Hold this before I drop it.”
Ten years passed.
“That’s my job now?”
“You said daughters give their dads chores.”
I smiled, but that night, she still left a white daisy on Emily’s pillow.
She never took Emily’s room, not once.
On the 10th anniversary, Nora came downstairs holding her phone like it might bite her.
“Dad?”
I looked up from the coffee maker. “What’s wrong?”
“That’s my job now?”
“I got a message.”
“From whom?”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She handed me the phone.
“Did Ross really stop looking for me?”
The next message sat underneath it.
“Did he really adopt you because he wanted a fresh start? I need to know before I go to anyone.”
My hands went cold. “Nora.”
“I got a message.”
“Look at the photo.”
It came through a second later.
It was Emily, only older, thinner, but unmistakable.
Nora grabbed the counter. “Dad, it’s her.”
I couldn’t speak.
Nora typed first.
“No. He never stopped.”
