Chapter 8 - The Question at Bedtime
Lucía hated the word liar. She'd heard it at the wedding, in the hallway, and once through Rosa's kitchen window when a neighbor thought she wasn't listening.
That evening her dad came into the guest room with a fresh glass of water. His sleeves were rolled up. There was a little scratch on his hand from work, which made him look like himself again.
"Are we poor now?" Lucía asked.
He sat on the edge of the bed. "No. We have problems to solve, but you don't need to solve them."
"Harper said I would make you lose everything."
"Harper was wrong."
Lucía traced the flowers on the quilt. "Did Mommy ever lie to you?"
Daniel breathed in slowly. "Sure. Once she told me she liked the soup I made. I found out later she thought it tasted like wet cardboard."
Lucía giggled despite herself.
"But a lie that scares a child is different," he said. "And when somebody tells you to keep a secret because a person you love might get hurt, you come tell me. Even if you're scared. Especially then."
"What if you don't believe me next time?"
"I will listen first. Then we'll figure out what's true together."
She thought about the night on the stairs. She'd wanted to run into his arms when he came home, but Harper had stood in the hall with a finger to her lips. For eleven days Lucía had believed the silence was protecting him. Now she understood it had only protected Harper.
Daniel tucked the blanket around her. "One more thing. Whatever happens with the baby, nothing changes who you are to me."
"Your girl?"
"My girl. Forever."
May you like
After he left, Lucía went to her backpack and took out the other thing she'd hidden: a small laminated visitor pass. The rain had curled its corner, but the name was still clear.
It belonged to a woman, not Silas. And beneath the name was the logo of the bank lending money to Bellweather Development.
