Caroline told me Frank had owned two. Then she handed me an old photograph of a little girl who was standing in a kitchen beside a plate of star-shaped pancakes.
Frank was behind her.
He looked younger than I’d ever known him, and completely happy.
The girl’s name was Miley. She had been Frank’s daughter.
She had died when she was five.
I couldn’t understand why he’d never told me.
Caroline explained that Miley had died in an accident at a lake. Frank had blamed himself, even though there had been nothing he could have done. Afterward, his marriage fell apart and he withdrew from everyone.
He had packed away the photographs and toys and anything else that reminded him of her. Even the pancake cutter. And then he met my mother.
Apparently, not long after their marriage, I asked Frank if he knew how to make star-shaped pancakes.
He did.
He called Caroline afterward, crying. He had used Miley’s old tradition with me, and for the first time in years, he had been able to talk about his daughter without feeling like the memory would destroy him.
But that wasn’t the part Frank had been most afraid to tell me. Caroline finally explained what happened after my mother died. Frank hadn’t immediately decided to stay. He had packed a truck. He came to Caroline’s house the night after the funeral because he believed my aunt could raise me. He told her he wasn’t sure he could do it. He was terrified that loving another daughter would eventually mean losing another daughter.
Every time I laughed, he heard Miley.
Every time I ran near a road or did something that could have hurt me, he panicked.
He told Caroline he didn’t think he could survive losing another child. Then he stayed in her kitchen until morning.
She made him see that being afraid wasn’t a reason to abandon me, so he went home, unpacked the truck, and waited for me to wake up. Later that morning, he crawled under the kitchen table and promised he wasn’t going anywhere.
That was the moment I had remembered my entire life, without ever knowing how close he’d been to walking away.
CONTINUE READING…>>
