Chapter 14 - The Folded Note
Later that evening, after the guests had gone home, the balloons had deflated, and the backyard was quiet under a blanket of glittering stars, I sat on the living room rug helping Lily pack her backpack for school the next day.
She carefully placed her favorite colored pencils, her new picture book, and a clean notebook into the front pouch.
As I watched her, I noticed her hand slip into the very bottom lining of the bag—the hidden pocket where she used to keep that old, terrifying note from her mother.
My breath caught. I reached out gently and touched her wrist. "Lily? What are you looking for, sweetie?"
She paused, looking up at me with clear, untroubled eyes. She pulled her hand out, and instead of a crumpled piece of lined paper filled with fear, she was holding a brand-new, brightly colored index card.
She handed it to me with a shy, proud smile.
I unfolded it. Written in her neat, careful second-grade handwriting were the words:
“Emergency Contact Card: Auntie Maya. Phone number: 555-0192. If I ever need anything, she is right here. And I am never, ever alone.”
A thick lump formed in my throat, choking back any words I might have tried to form. I pulled her into my arms, burying my face in her hair as tears of pure, absolute joy spilled over my eyelashes.
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"You're never alone, Lily," I whispered fiercely against her temple. "Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."
"I know, Auntie," she whispered back, wrapping her small arms tightly around my neck. "I know."
