“Is it true that my mom only married him because she was going to have a baby?” Margot’s bottom lip trembled.
“Where did you hear that?” Vance asked sharply.
“I heard Mom say it to Derek,” Margot said. “When they were trying to figure out how to get rid of me.”
No one said anything for a moment. I exchanged a glance with Mia, who looked like she might cry.
“Let me tell you about your father when you were first born,” Irene said gently. “I’ve never seen such a proud papa. He was the one who got up in the middle of the night to give you your bottle. When I stayed with you—when you were first born—I would wake up and hear him singing to you, the creak of the old rocker in the nursery. Sometimes I’d get up too and stand in the doorway, just to see my large son holding this tiny baby. I felt like my heart might burst with happiness.”
“Why?” Margot asked, wrinkling her freckled nose.
“You’ll understand when you grow up,” Irene said. “But when your child has a child, and you get to see them with your grandchild, it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. I’m so grateful you’re back with your papa now.”
“I remembered Papa singing to me,” Margot said.
Irene beamed, even as her eyes glistened with tears. “Did you now?”
In perfect pitch, Margot sang a few lines of a French lullaby different than the one Vance sang to her the other evening.
When she finished, we all stared at her.
“How do you remember the words?” Vance asked softly. “You were so small.”
Margot shrugged. “It was in my dreams, I think. The song. And you.”
“They say songs can bring back memories like nothing else,” Irene said.
“Smells too,” Mia added. “I learned that in English class when we studied poetry.”
We ate for a few minutes in silence. I couldn’t speak for the others, but Margot made me ache. I wanted to scoop her up and hold her close until her mother’s cruelty was just a distant memory.
“Margot, do you like the ocean?” Irene asked, breaking the quiet.
“I’ve not been very often,” Margot said. “Mom doesn’t like the beach. She says sand gets everywhere and saltwater ruins your hair.”
Irene’s expression tightened for just a moment, then smoothed. “Well, we’ll have to fix that. Your papa used to love building sandcastles when he was small. Maybe we can all go together and he can teach you.”
“I’d like that,” Margot said softly, before turning to Mia. “If Mia comes too.”
“Of course I will,” Mia said. “I love the beach. Sand comes right off in the shower, so it’s not something to worry about. Trust me—I’ve had to wash a lot of sand out of my ears.”
I laughed. “The pediatrician gave me a dirty look when she saw all the sand in Mia’s ears. But it’s a small price to pay to play at the beach.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Irene said.
After dinner, Mia suggested she and Margot finish their drawings from earlier out on the patio. “Then maybe it’ll be time for dessert.”
“Mémé brought a cake in that box,” Margot said as they walked out to the terrace.
“I know. I peeked, and it’s chocolate,” Mia said.
“Do you like chocolate?” Margot asked.
“Who doesn’t?” Mia said before she shut the French doors behind her.
“She’s doing well,” Irene said once they were gone. “Better than I expected, honestly.”
“We have a ways to go, but we’re getting there. She’s resilient,” Vance said.
