How did it happen, the accident? James took a deep breath. Rainy night, slick roads. The other driver crossed the centre line.
The facts were easier to share than the emotions that followed. I was away on business. Emma was with Victoria.
Eliza was alone in the car. I’m so sorry, James. Three drinks and two hours later, James found himself sharing the struggles of single parenthood, the nightmares Emma still had.
The calendar filled with appointments. The crushing loneliness of his empty bed. What you need, Sophia said thoughtfully, is help.
I have a housekeeper who comes three times a week, and Victoria helps when she’s not driving me crazy. No, you need someone who understands children developmentally. Someone who can be there for Emma in ways that address her grief.
An idea formed in James’s mind. Someone like you. Sophia’s eyebrows shot up.
What? I’m serious. I need a part-time nanny for Emma. Someone qualified.
Someone who knew Eliza. The words tumbled out before he could reconsider. The position would pay well, and your hours would be flexible around your classes.
James, I don’t think… Just think about it, he insisted. For Emma. That night, as James returned home to relieve the babysitter, his phone chimed again.
I’ve thought about it. I’ll take the job. For Emma.
Sophia. When he told Emma the next morning, her reaction sealed the deal. The lady who looks like mommy is coming to our house.
Her entire face lit up like Christmas morning. When? Tomorrow, James said, surprised by his own excitement. She’s going to help take care of you after preschool.
As predicted, Victoria wasn’t pleased. You barely know this woman, James. And hiring someone who looks so much like Eliza? It’s not healthy, not for you, and certainly not for Emma.
But when Sophia arrived the next afternoon, Emma ran straight into her arms like they were old friends. And watching them together, Sophia patiently helping Emma build a tower of blocks, laughing at her jokes, answering her endless questions, James felt something shift inside him. For the first time in 18 months, his house felt like a home again.
The first signs of spring brought subtle changes to the Sullivan household. Daffodils pushed through the soil in the front yard, flowers James hadn’t planted, but that Eliza had loved. Like everything else since her death, they served as both comfort and painful reminder.
But indoors, a different kind of renewal was taking place. Higher, higher! Emma shrieked with laughter as Sophia spun her around the living room, the little girl’s feet flying through the air. James paused in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, watching them.
This scene, his daughter’s unbridled joy, the warmth filling his once silent home, would have been unimaginable months ago. Oh, Sophia noticed him and set Emma down gently. Sorry if we’re being too loud.
Not at all, James said, an unexpected lump forming in his throat. It’s nice. Two months had passed since Sophia had joined their household, and the change was remarkable.
Emma had stopped asking when mommy was coming home, instead channeling her energy into art projects, outdoor adventures, and countless questions about the world, all of which Sophia answered with patient enthusiasm. Daddy, look what Sophia taught me. Emma ran to him, holding up her hands.
If you put your hands like this, it looks like a butterfly. That’s amazing, pumpkin. James knelt to admire the shadow puppet.