Chapter 29
Sunshine
The next morning felt strangely ordinary.
Children argued over cereal.
Grace and Emma helped Daisy fold laundry without being asked.
Charlie proudly informed everyone that Mr. Pickles had eaten two imaginary waffles and therefore needed a nap.
Life had a way of continuing, even when difficult conversations waited just beyond the horizon.
Remedy hadn't said much since the phone call.
He wasn't distant.
Just thoughtful.
Every now and then I'd catch him looking toward Charlie before quickly looking away again.
I knew what he was thinking.
Every decision from this point forward belonged to her.
After breakfast, Charlie tugged on Daisy's sleeve.
"Can I help with cookies?"
Daisy smiled.
"I was hoping you'd ask."
Charlie turned to us.
"I'm making cookies."
"I heard," Remedy said.
"You can go."
His eyebrows lifted.
"We have permission?"
Charlie nodded seriously.
"I'll stay with Miss Daisy."
She pointed toward me.
"You go too."
I crouched beside her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep."
She wrapped both arms around my neck before whispering loudly,
"Don't forget to come back."
"I won't."
Satisfied, she skipped into the kitchen.
Daisy caught my eye over Charlie's head.
She already knew.
Remedy had told her before breakfast.
She simply nodded once.
Go.
Neither of us spoke much during the drive.
Blackwater Falls was waking up around us.
People walked along the sidewalks carrying coffee.
The hardware store owner swept the front porch.
Two teenagers argued over whose turn it was to carry fishing poles toward the lake.
An ordinary Saturday.
It felt almost unfair.
My heart hadn't stopped racing since yesterday.
Remedy finally broke the silence.
"You don't have to come."
I looked out the passenger window.
"Do you want me there?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm coming."
He nodded once.
"I figured."
A few minutes later we turned into the parking lot of the small motel on the edge of town.
The kind of place travelers stayed one night before moving on.
A faded blue sign buzzed quietly above the office.
Room 14.
Remedy parked but didn't immediately get out.
He rested both hands on the steering wheel.
"I don't know who I'm about to meet."
I reached over and laced my fingers through his.
"Neither does she."
He looked at me.
"Thank you for coming."
"There isn't anywhere else I'd be."
Brooke opened the door before we knocked.
She must have been watching through the curtains.
For a long second, no one spoke.
She looked younger than I expected.
Not in years.
In expression.
The hardness I'd imagined wasn't there.
Instead, she looked exhausted.
Her blond hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and she wore jeans and a plain sweater despite the warm weather.
No makeup.
No jewelry except a thin silver necklace.
Her eyes found Remedy first.
They immediately filled with tears.
"Ethan..."
He didn't answer.
She swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
The words came out almost as a reflex.
Not rehearsed.
Not dramatic.
Simply true.
He nodded politely.
"Brooke."
Her gaze shifted to me.
"You must be Sunshine."
I blinked.
"You know my name?"
She gave a small, embarrassed smile.
"Daisy mentioned you."
Not in detail.
"Just..."
Her eyes softened.
"...that Charlie smiles a lot these days."
Emotion caught unexpectedly in my throat.
"She does."
Brooke nodded.
"I'm glad."
She stepped back from the doorway.
"Would you... come in?"
The room was neat.
Too neat.
One suitcase rested beside the dresser.
Several folded pieces of paper sat on the small table next to an untouched cup of coffee.
I'd recognize them anywhere.
Letters.
Letters never sent.
Brooke noticed me looking.
"I wrote one every birthday."
Remedy's eyes shifted to the stack.
"I never mailed them."
He didn't answer.
"I know."
She laughed softly, though there was no humor in it.
"I talked to them instead."
The silence stretched.
Finally Remedy spoke.
"Why now?"
Brooke looked down at her hands.
"Because I finally stopped asking whether I deserved to come back."
"And started asking what Charlie deserved."
That answer lingered between us.
She continued quietly.
"My therapist asked me a question six months ago."
She folded her arms, almost hugging herself.
"She asked whether staying away protected Charlie..."
"...or protected me from hearing she didn't want me."
Remedy remained still.
"I realized..."
Brooke looked toward the window.
"...I wasn't sacrificing anything."
"I was hiding."
I believed her.
Not because the words were perfect.
Because they weren't.
People telling the truth rarely sounded polished.
Remedy finally sat across from her.
"I need you to understand something."
"I know."
"No."
His voice remained calm.
"I need to say it anyway."
She nodded.
"Charlie is happy."
Relief crossed Brooke's face.
"Good."
"She is loved."
"I never doubted that."
"She has a family."
Brooke looked at me.
Then back at him.
"I know."
He continued.
"I'm not introducing confusion into her life because someone feels guilty."
Brooke nodded immediately.
"You shouldn't."
"If you become part of her life..."
His words were deliberate.
"...it has to make her life better."
"Not yours."
Tears slipped down Brooke's cheeks.
"I agree."
She reached into her purse.
"I brought something."
She handed Remedy a small photograph.
He looked down.
His breath caught.
It was Charlie.
Maybe six months old.
Asleep against his chest in the rocking chair that had once stood in the nursery.
"When?"
"The last day."
Brooke's voice shook.
"I almost didn't leave."
She looked at the picture.
"I sat there for nearly three hours."
Remedy stared at the image.
"I kept telling myself if I stayed until she woke up..."
"...I'd never leave."
The room grew quiet.
Sunshine looked between them.
Not husband and wife anymore.
Not strangers either.
Two people connected forever by one little girl.
"I don't hate you," Remedy said at last.
Brooke closed her eyes.
"I know I don't deserve that."
"It isn't about deserving."
He set the photograph carefully on the table.
"I was angry."
"I know."
"I still am sometimes."
"I understand."
"But anger isn't what decides this."
He looked toward me for just a moment.
Then back to Brooke.
"Charlie does."
Brooke nodded slowly.
"When she's ready."
"When she's ready," he agreed.
She drew a shaky breath.
"May I ask one question?"
Remedy waited.
"What does she like?"
The question was so simple it nearly broke my heart.
Remedy smiled despite himself.
"Everything."
Brooke laughed through her tears.
"That sounds right."
"She loves pancakes."
"And dinosaurs."
"And books."
"And asking impossible questions."
"And she believes stuffed animals have opinions."
Brooke listened to every word as if committing them to memory.
"She still sleeps with a night-light."
"She hates green beans."
"She sings when she colors."
By the time Remedy finished, Brooke was crying openly.
Not because she'd missed those moments.
Because she finally knew who her daughter was becoming.
When the conversation ended, she didn't ask to see Charlie.
She didn't ask when she could.
She simply stood as we reached the door.
"Thank you."
Remedy paused.
"We're going to take this slowly."
"I hoped you would."
He nodded.
"I'll call you."
Brooke smiled sadly.
"I'll answer."
Outside, the warm afternoon air felt lighter than the motel room.
Remedy didn't start the truck immediately.
Instead, he looked at the photograph Brooke had given him one more time before slipping it carefully into his wallet.
"You okay?" I asked.
He looked toward me.
"No."
Then, after a long breath, he added,
"But I think... maybe she is."
I rested my hand over his.
"We don't have to decide the rest today."
He smiled faintly.
"No."
The hardest conversation had happened.
The next one—the one that truly mattered—would be with Charlie.
But not yet.
First, they would give everyone, especially one little girl, the time she deserved.