My Daughter Died Two Years Ago – Last Week the School Called to Say She Was in the Principal’s Office

She looked about 13.

“Why did you never come for me?” she cried into my shoulder.

“I thought you were gone,” I choked.

Grace pulled back just enough to look at me. Her eyes were red and scared. Before she could respond, someone stepped in behind us. It was Neil. He stood there, breathing hard.

Grace turned slowly. “Dad?”

He stared at her as if he were looking at something impossible.

“Why did you never come for me?”

“You knew she was alive,” I said.

“No,” he replied, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Then why did you try to stop me from coming?”

“Mary,” he said tightly, glancing at the principal. “We should talk in private.”

“No.”

I stood up and took Grace’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

“You knew she was alive.”

Neil followed us into the hallway. “You can’t just take her.”

“Watch me.”

Students and teachers stared as we walked past, but I didn’t care.

Outside, I let Grace sit next to me. As I started driving, planning on taking my baby home, I realized Neil might go there too, and I didn’t trust him.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Grace muttered beside me.

I didn’t trust him.

“I won’t, my baby,” I said firmly. “I’m taking you to your Aunt Melissa’s house for a little while. I need to figure out what happened.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be. Remember, you used to love staying with her? She’d let you stay up late and eat ice cream for dinner sometimes.”

A small, uncertain smile appeared.

“I won’t, my baby.”

When we pulled into my younger sister’s driveway, my heart was still racing. Melissa opened the door and stared at us. Then she gasped.