Chapter 6
Claire
I’d barely kicked the slush from my boots on my driveway, when my phone buzzed. Emma Walker’s name lit up my screen, familiar and suddenly heavy in a way that made something in my stomach pinch.
“Claire, dear… can you come by?” Her voice was soft, like she was trying not to be overheard. “We’ve heard from the lawyers.”
◆◆◆
The Walkers’ house looked exactly the same as the wind chime swayed in the cold breeze, the warm glow spilling from the front window. But the quiet was new. It wrapped around the house like a second skin, heavy and lingering.
I stepped inside, and the familiar smell of lemon polish and wood smoke hit me.
I’d grown up half in this house, sleepovers with Ethan, dinners when my parents worked late, Emma fussing over everyone like she had endless bandwidth for mothering.
Bill’s steady laugh, the boys thundering upstairs, Jenny’s chatter filling every corner.
The house used to be so loud, now it was silent.
Lily was curled on the couch under the knitted blanket that once belonged to Jenny. She wasn’t crying; that almost made it worse. Her eyes were fixed on the cartoon playing, but her expression was empty, unfocused. Her thumb hovered near her mouth, a habit she’d outgrown years ago.
I gave her a quiet wave, not wanting to disturb the peace and followed Emma’s voice to the kitchen.
Bill was already there, both hands wrapped tight around a mug he wasn’t drinking from. They both had brown hair, warm chestnut now threaded with soft white, like winter slowly frosting them strand by strand.
Nobody spoke at first.
Bill cleared his throat. “We got a call. From the lawyers.” His fingers tightened around the mug. “About…lily’s guardianship.”
I felt the next part coming before Emma said it..
“They said Jenny and Matt chose Ethan,” Emma murmured, watching my face carefully.
The name landed with a dull heaviness in me, like a stone dropped in deep water.
I stared at the tile floor, steadying my breath. “Ethan,” I repeated, keeping my voice as even as I could. “I see.”
“We’re not sure why,” Bill rushed out, as if trying to get ahead of a misunderstanding. “We love our son, of course we do, but he’s… well. He’s Ethan.”
Emma shot him a warning look, but the lack of disagreement said enough.
“He’s not answering his phone, that’s why he wasn’t at the funeral,” she added softly. “We haven’t been able to reach him. And we thought… maybe there’s been some mix-up.”
I let the silence stretch. The refrigerator hummed steadily. A wind gust rattled the window above the sink. From the living room, a cartoon character squeaked with exaggerated joy, painfully out of place.
“They trusted him,” I said finally, even though the words felt weird in my mouth. I didn’t know if I believed them. Or maybe I didn’t want to peel back the layers of what Jenny might have been thinking. Why she wrote his name instead of someone more consistent, more present.
Emma exhaled shakily. “We just don’t think he’s ready to raise a child alone. We’re not calling him irresponsible, we’re just…” Her voice thinned. “Just not the person we expected.”
I nodded. That part was easy to understand. Ethan had never been the steady one, not like Matt. Not like most people Jenny leaned on.
“But,” Bill said, shoulders dropping, “we want to respect their wishes. So, we’ll wait, for him to come, hear what he says.”
I swallowed against the ache behind my sternum. “That’s all we can do.”
Emma reached for my arm, her hand warm and tired and characteristically gentle. “Thank you for coming, dear. You’ve been here every moment. I don’t know how we’d manage without you.”
I forced a small, soft smile. I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t managing either. That every hour felt like walking across ice that kept cracking under my feet.
I just squeezed her hand back and looked toward the living room.
Lily sat small beneath the oversized blanket, a child holding up the weight of a world that shouldn’t have asked this of her.
Somewhere out there, Ethan, whoever he was now, whatever version of himself he’d become, was about to inherit the shattered pieces of a little girl’s life.
And all we could do was wait.