Page 55

I could admit now that I’d made mistakes. I’d been too willing to accept another project, another deadline, another promise that things would settle down after the next job.

But Veronica hadn’t simply left our marriage. She’d left Sienna too.

I’d spent years believing that if I’d been home more, if I’d been a different kind of husband, maybe Veronica would’ve wanted the family we’d made. I’d treated the choices she’d made as proof that I’d failed both of them.

I’d missed time with my family, and that was mine to regret. Veronica had made her own choice about being Sienna’s mother. Yet here I was, still treating the things I’d loved making as though they were responsible for what happened.

I looked down at the drawing again. The little girl who’d been terrified by an unfinished creature was ten now. She was making up creatures of her own, studying how they moved and appeared in different lighting, and asking me to teach her things I actually knew how to do.

I’d been so busy remembering her fear that I’d hardly noticed her excitement. Goldie had seen her work and encouraged her to show me, exactly as she’d told me at the festival.

At the festival, I’d blamed Goldie for knowing something about Sienna that I didn’t. Instead of asking why my daughter felt more comfortable showing her art to a woman she’d known for three days, I’d accused Goldie of breaking our agreement.

She’d given me every opportunity to believe her, and I’d refused.

I picked up the sweatshirt and tucked it back into the duffel, then carried the sketchbook upstairs.

Sienna’s door was closed.

I knocked gently.

“Sweetheart, can I come in? I need to apologize to you.”

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then she said, “Are you going to tell me I can’t wear my costume again?”

“I’d rather hear what you wanted to make before we decide anything else. I’ve got your sketchbook too. It fell out of your bag downstairs.”

The door opened a few inches.

Sienna stood behind it with swollen eyes and a tissue clutched in one hand. She looked at the book.

“Did you look at it?”

“It fell open to a drawing of a corridor and two monsters. I saw those pages before I picked it up. I didn’t turn to any others.”

She opened the door farther and took the sketchbook from me.

“That’s one of my old ones.”

“I saw the date. It’s a good drawing, Sienna. I particularly like how you’ve hidden the larger creature behind the doorway. You’d get a good reaction from people if you built that room the way you’ve drawn it.”

She looked down at the page.

“That’s what I wanted. You’re supposed to think the little monster is going to jump out, but it doesn’t. The big one is behind you when you turn around.”

“I understood that part. You might need to move the doorway a little so the creature stays hidden from taller people, but you’ve got the right idea.”

Her expression changed.

“Really?”

“Really. And I’d like to see the rest, if you’re willing to show me.”

She hesitated, then stepped aside.

I followed her into the bedroom. Art supplies covered part of her desk, and several sketches were pinned above it. I recognized a few fantasy creatures from books she loved, but others were entirely her own.