“You’re scared,” Frankie said quietly.
I looked at her, surprised by the observation.
“I’m terrified,” I admitted.
Frankie was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “Derek would never hurt me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice was firm. “I know it the same way I know you’d never hurt me. The same way I know the sun’s going to come up tomorrow. He would die before he let anything happen to me, Mom. I know that.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was too young to understand that the world was more complicated than she realized. But the conviction in her voice stopped me.
“Mom?” Frankie’s voice was small again, almost frightened. “I heard you and Derek talking about Marsha.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been so caught up in my anger that I hadn’t realized she was listening.
“Yes, baby.”
“Is she...” Frankie’s voice trembled. “Is she looking for us? Is that why Derek was so angry?”
I pulled her close, understanding now why she’d been so quiet. All this time, we’d been living with the fear that Marsha might find us, might try to take her back.
“No, sweetheart. She’s not looking for you. She can’t.”
“Why not?” Frankie pulled back to look at me, her eyes wide with a fear I recognized because I’d carried it with me every single day.
I took a deep breath. “Because she’s dead, Frankie. Marsha Wade is dead.”
Frankie’s body went rigid. “How?”
“She kidnapped Charlie. Jack and Sam’s daughter. She wanted to keep her; she saw her as a replacement for you. She pulled a gun on Derek when he wouldn’t go along with it, and in the struggle—” I paused, my voice steadying. “She was shot and died.”
Frankie was quiet for a long moment, processing. Then something shifted in her posture, her shoulders dropped, her breathing deepened. It was like watching a weight lift that I hadn’t fully understood she was carrying.
“So she can’t come looking for me?” she said finally, her voice shaking but different now, relief mixing with the fear. “She can’t try to take me away?”
“No, baby. She can’t. Derek made sure of that.”
“He protected Charlie,” Frankie said slowly. “The same way he protected me from Richard.”
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“You always tell me people deserve a second chance,” Frankie said. “You always say people can change and grow if they work hard enough. That mistakes don’t define us forever.”
“I know what I said—”
“So why doesn’t Derek get a second chance?” Her eyes met mine, clear and direct. “Why doesn’t he get to prove he’s changed?”
The question hung in the air between us.
“Because I’m scared,” I whispered. “Because what if I’m wrong? What if he hasn’t changed? What if I let him in and he hurts you?”
“What if you don’t let him in and we lose the best thing that’s ever happened to us?” Frankie countered. “What if you’re so scared of being hurt that you push away someone who actually loves us?”
I stared at my daughter, stunned by her wisdom.
“Maybe you should talk to someone,” Frankie said quietly. “Like Haizley. Derek goes to therapy. Maybe you should too.”
