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“Will you read me a story, Daddy?” Emily asked.
Daddy. It was the first time she’d called him that, and the feeling that flooded Devin stunned him. Like a fist to the solar plexus. He’d used the word himself in his thoughts, but somehow, hearing it from her made it more real, more special.
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Even with no tangible evidence of her four-year marriage in the small apartment she’d moved into, it had been many months before she’d been able to sleep through the night without waking and remembering. Many long weeks when Lee’s hurtful words kept replaying in her head like a broken record spewing out a litany of her shortcomings. Endless days when she’d had to force herself to quit hiding and leave her small sanctuary to look for work. Though Lee had never laid a hand on her, she’d felt beaten up and beaten down.
But that was then and this was now, Molly thought, starting up old Bessie and moving out into traffic. She was beginning a new chapter in her life, a new place to live and, hopefully in about a year, more meaningful work that would lead to a bright future. She’d read somewhere that you can handle anything as long as you know one day it’ll end. That thought kept her going.
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