somebody.”
“Who?”
He looked again, but the man had already disappeared inside Monica’s house.
“I don’t know. I can’t place it.”
Ben called for his father, and Daniel turned back toward the trees.
He placed a hand on our son’s shoulder and looked up through the branches.
“These trees will keep feeding you even after I’m gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Don’t say things like that.”
He gave me his familiar smile.
“I only meant trees live a long time.”
“Then talk about the trees living a long time. Don’t talk about yourself disappearing.”
He reached for my hand and squeezed it.
Twelve days later, Daniel died.
The afternoon we returned from his funeral, I carried our sleeping daughter Lily from the car while Ben walked beside me holding Daniel’s old cap tightly against his chest.
I barely looked toward the backyard.
All I could think about was getting
