My eyes went back to the small star cutter on the table.
“The pancakes.”
“He made them for her first.”
PART THREE — What the Table Never Told Me
Caroline sat down across from me, folding her hands like she was steadying herself for what came next.
“Then one morning, not long after he married your mother, you climbed into his lap and fell asleep against him. When you woke up, you asked him if he knew how to make pancakes shaped like stars.”
“I don’t remember that at all.”
“You were four.”
She set the cutter down between us.
“He called me that same afternoon. He was crying so hard I could barely make out the words. He told me he’d made the pancakes. He said he’d said Miley’s name out loud for the first time in years, and it hadn’t destroyed him.”
My hand tightened on the edge of the table.
“He didn’t hand you something that used to belong to his daughter,” Caroline said. “You gave him a way to keep her close without it killing him to remember her.”
The kitchen blurred behind my tears. “Then what was the lie?”
She looked toward the window, gathering herself.
“After your mother died, Frank packed his truck.”
My stomach dropped. “He was going to leave?”
“He drove straight here, that same night. He said your aunt could raise you. He said staying would be selfish of him.”
“Selfish?”
“He was terrified, Rosalie.” Her voice cracked. “He told me — I remember it exactly — ‘Every time she laughs, I hear Miley. Every time she runs toward the street, I stop breathing. I can’t survive burying another daughter.’”
Something in my chest ached in a way I didn’t have a name for.
“He promised me he’d stay. He told me he’d never leave.”
“He made that promise after he sat in this kitchen until sunrise,” Caroline said softly. “He kept telling me he wasn’t strong enough to love another child. That loving you would be the thing that finally broke him.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him not to run from loving you out of fear. I told him to stay, because he already did love you — he just hadn’t let himself say it yet.”
A sound came out of me that wasn’t quite a sob.
