Stay
I poured warm milk into the panda mug, the steam curling like a ghost over the kitchen table.
Lily swirled the spoon half‑heartedly, her eyes never leaving the plate, the eggs half‑eaten, the bacon crumbs scattered like tiny ships.
"Daddy?" she asked, voice low, the word hanging between us.
I set the mug down, feeling the weight of the ticket to Corriston suddenly heavy in my pocket.
"Do you have to go?" I asked, catching the tremor in her jaw.
She stared at the hallway, then back at me, knuckles white around the edge of the table.
"Grandma takes me somewhere when you're gone," she whispered, "and I'm not allowed to tell you."
The words struck a chord, a cold shiver up the back of my neck.
Outside the driver honked, a reminder of the waiting jet, the deadline, the project that had eaten fourteen months of my life.
I knelt, the wood creaking under my weight, and asked, "Tell me why."
She shook her head so fast it blurred, then repeated, "Grandma says promises don't count when grown‑ups have important things."
My mind raced—Margaret had moved in, rearranged the kitchen, taken over the house. I had tolerated it, for Mara’s sake.
Now the little girl I’d taught to count spoons and letters was warning me of a secret she couldn’t name.
I felt a sudden, irrevocable decision settle: I would stay.
My flight to Corriston could wait; Lily’s warning could not.
Confrontation
I strode to the guest cottage, the hallway echoing with my footsteps, the scent of old pine and Margaret’s lavender soap filling the air.
Margaret stood by the window, a teacup in hand, the afternoon light catching the silver in her hair.
"Margaret," I said, voice low, "what are you doing with Lily?"
She turned, her smile tight, eyes flicking to the garden behind her.
"Just a little surprise," she replied, voice smooth, like she’d rehearsed it.
"A surprise? She told me you take her to a place when I'm not here. She won't say where."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Sweetheart, children have imaginations. She's just playing games."
I could feel the tension coil in my chest, the words building like a storm.
"I'm not leaving her alone. Not with that 'special place' you keep mentioning."
She set the cup down, the porcelain clink echoing.
"I'll be back soon, Tansy. I promise. Lily will love it. Trust me."
She turned, grabbed her coat, and hurried toward the door, the hinges squealing.
She paused, hand on the knob, and looked back.
"I'll call you when I get there," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
The door swung shut, leaving me with the echo of her footsteps and a vague promise.
As I stood there, the driver’s horn blared outside, the jet’s engine rumbling to life.
My heart dropped; the aircraft that was supposed to carry me to Corriston surged forward.
The driver slammed the door, a duffel bag disappearing into the cargo hold.
The jet roared, wheels lifting, the sound deafening as it sped away, leaving me rooted, helpless, watching my flight dissolve into the sky.
Hidden Pages in Lily’s Closet
I slipped the door shut behind me and let the faint perfume of lavender‑scented laundry drift over the carpet.
