Chapter 24: One Year Since the Call

Hattie chose the day, and a year to the day it came.

She woke us at six, in a yellow dress, with her rabbit Biscuit's ear freshly stitched and the puppy circling her ankles.

"Is it time?"

"It's six in the morning," Cillian said, with his face in the pillow.

"I wanted to be early."

The call was set for noon.

The prison allowed one video visit, in a bare room with a table and a screen, and the lawyer had sent the link the night before.

I made pancakes at nine.

Cillian flipped the first three onto the floor, and the puppy took care of the evidence.

At eleven fifty we sat in the study with the screen turned toward the sofa.

Hattie sat between us.

Cillian held her left hand, and I held her right.

The screen lit.

Neil sat on the other side at a steel table in a gray jumpsuit.

He was thinner.

His hair had gone dull, and there was no watch on his wrist.

Behind him a cinder-block wall had been painted the color of old tea.

"Hattie," he said.

She looked at him for a long moment.

"Hi, Neil."

He winced.

"You can call me Daddy."

"No," she said kindly. "I already have one."

He looked at Cillian, and Cillian looked back and didn't say a word.

Neil cleared his throat.

"I wanted to tell you I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For the day of the accident."

"What about it?"

His mouth worked.

"I didn't come."

"You didn't."

"I should have."

"You should have," Hattie agreed.

He bent his head, and for a long time none of us spoke.

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