“As long as you want.”
She smiled faintly.
“Even if it takes forever?”
“Even if it takes forever.”
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “Can I brush it?”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
She picked up the brush.
There wasn’t much hair to brush.
But she ran it gently over her scalp anyway.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like she was taking something back.
Then she looked at me.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Next time Grandma tells me to keep a secret…”
She stopped.
I waited.
“…I can tell you?”
I put my arms around her.
“Every time.”
She hugged me tightly.
And that was the first morning since the haircut that she didn’t pull the blanket over her head.
Two Weeks Later
The investigation eventually confirmed what my daughter had told us.
There had been more than one conversation.
More than one secret.
Nothing my daughter had done had caused any of it.
