Chapter 10: The Seat That Was Always Hers
Three months later, Gabriel carried a casserole into the dining room and found Amelia arranging seven plates.
“We only need six,” he said.
She placed the seventh beside her chair.
“That one is for Biscuit’s treats.
He still doesn’t get to eat from the table.”
Biscuit thumped his tail.
Gabriel laughed.
“A reasonable rule.”
Mrs.
Collins arrived first, followed by Bryce and Theo.
Everett stood on the porch holding a pie and waited until Amelia opened the door.
“May I come in?” he asked.
Amelia looked at Gabriel.
“It’s your choice,” Gabriel said.
She stepped aside.
“You can sit next to Theo.”
Everett’s eyes shone.
“Thank you.”
During dinner, Amelia reached for the water jug.
Her sleeve caught the glass, and water spread across the tablecloth.
The room went still.
Amelia stared at the spill.
Gabriel placed a napkin beside her hand.
“What do we say?”
She swallowed.
“Everybody spills things sometimes.”
Bryce grabbed another napkin.
“I spilled milk on my homework yesterday.”
Theo leaned across the table.
“He blamed the cat.”
“We don’t have a cat,” Bryce said.
Amelia laughed so suddenly that Gabriel had to look away.
Mrs.
Collins touched his arm.
“Let her see you.”
Gabriel wiped his eyes.
“I’m all right.”
“No, you’re not,” Amelia said softly.
He pulled his chair closer.
“You’re right.
I’m sorry I was gone so much.”
“You don’t travel now.”
“I work from home three days a week, and I don’t leave overnight without talking to you first.”
“Because Grandma lied?”
“Because you deserved better from me before I knew she was lying.”
Amelia reached for his hand.
“I was mad at you.”
“You had every right to be.”
“I’m still a little mad.”
“You have a right to that too.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“But I’m glad you came home early.”
Gabriel covered their joined hands with his other one.
“So am I.”
After dinner, Amelia brought out the silver music box.
The ballerina turned while Everett washed dishes and Bryce dried them.
“Daddy,” Amelia said, “Mom would have liked everyone being here, wouldn’t she?”
Gabriel looked around Nora’s six-chair table.
An extra folding chair stood at the end, and nobody was eating on the floor.
“She would have loved that you made room.”
Amelia closed the music box and rested her head against his shoulder.
“This is my seat, right?”
Gabriel kissed the top of her head.
“Always.”
And this time, when Amelia smiled, she did not look at anyone for permission.
May you like
A child should never have to earn love, safety, or a place at the family table.
Have you ever had to protect someone you loved from a person you once trusted?
