Lily considered this. Then she looked past Emma to her father and back to Emma. And Marcus braced himself because with Lily, you genuinely never knew she could go any direction. She had once cried for an hour because a butterfly left and once been completely unmoved by a broken arm. "Okay," Lily said.
But you have to know he snores and he can't braid good. And he pretends the vegetables taste good, but you can tell he doesn't believe it. Emma's mouth twitched. I'll keep all of that in mind. And biscuit comes everywhere.
That's not a rule you can change. I would never try to change that. Lily nodded, apparently having concluded the interview, and turned around and walked back to the living room like she hadn't just cracked open her father's entire private life in 90 seconds. Emma stood up slowly. She looked at Marcus and Marcus looked back at her and for a second neither of them said anything and then they both started laughing at the same time, quiet and helpless.
And Marcus thought, "This is it. This is the thing I forgot could happen. This is what it feels like when the house lets air in again." He should have known it wouldn't stay that simple. It was Ruth who complicated it first, and she did it the way Ruth did everything, which was directly and without warning. Emma had gone with Marcus and Lily to the county fair on a Saturday.
Nothing serious, just the three of them and a shared basket of funnel cake and Lily winning a goldfish. She named detective after her books. And when Emma got home that night, her mother was waiting up in the living room with the particular stillness of a woman who has been thinking. "You were with Marcus?" Ruth said. "I was." And the child.
Lily. Yes. Ruth was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "You need to be careful, Emma." Emma set down her perk. She'd been expecting some version of this.
Ruth had never said an unkind word about Marcus in 5 years. The opposite. She thought the man walked on water after the ice storm. But Emma knew her mother, and she knew that being grateful to a man and being comfortable with your daughter falling in love with him were two entirely different things. "Careful of what, mama?
That man has a child," Ruth said. A little girl who already lost her mother. You understand what that means? I understand. It means you don't get to change your mind.
Ruth's voice was gentle, but it had iron under it. You don't get to try this out and see how it feels and decide in 6 months that it's harder than you thought. Because it won't just be Marcus you're leaving. It'll be that baby. And that baby has been left once already.
Emma sat down across from her mother. I'm not going to change my mind. Everybody says that. Mama. Emma leaned forward.
I've been in love with that man for 4 years. I didn't just decide this last week. I've been walking past his house every day watching him be the best father I've ever seen. And I've been too afraid to do anything about it. I'm not careless.
If anything, I've been the opposite of careless. I've been so careful I almost let it disappear. Ruth studied her daughter for a long moment. Four years, she said. Almost.
Ruth exhaled slowly and something in her face softened and she reached over and patted her daughter's knee twice. Well, she said, "It's about time you did something about it. I was starting to think I raised a coward." Emma laughed startled. You knew child I have known since the second winter. You cannot keep a secret from your mother.
You just think you can. Ruth stood up, pulling her robe tighter. I just needed to hear you say the serious part out loud because that little girl is worth being serious about. She started toward the hallway, then stopped. And so is he.
That man drove me through an ice storm and never once made me feel like a burden. You do right by him, Emma. Both of them. She went to bed. Emma sat in the living room for a long time.
Then she picked up her phone and typed a message to Marcus that said simply, "My mother approves. I think we're official." The reply came back a minute later. "We survived Lily and Ruth in the same month. We can survive anything." He had no idea when he typed that how soon that sentence would be tested. It came in the form of a phone call 3 weeks later on an ordinary Tuesday.
Marcus was at work. He managed logistics for a regional distribution company, a job that was mostly solvable problems and occasional impossible ones. And his phone rang with a number he didn't recognize, an Atlanta number, and he almost let it go to voicemail. Something made him answer. Is this Marcus Williams speaking?
Mr. Williams, my name is Diane Okafor. I'm an attorney. A pause. I'm calling on behalf of the estate of Carol Reyes. Marcus went still.