Chapter 23: The Porch

The baby had started to fuss, and Sophie did not move.

She looked at me, and I knew she would do whatever I said.

That was almost worse than if she had fought me.

"No," I said.

Mark's face did not change.

"Helen."

"Not today."

"I'm her grandfather."

"You are."

"I'm not asking for a visit. I only want to hold her once."

"I know what you want."

I stood up and pushed in my chair.

"You told a ballroom I couldn't be trusted with a two-year-old."

"I know."

"You told Sophie I was losing my mind so she'd sign away her own mother. You sent a deputy to my barn."

"You may hold her someday, if Sophie decides it."

I pointed at the envelope.

"It won't be because you sat at my table with a signed paper and a sad face."

He looked at Sophie.

"Is that what you want?"

Sophie held the baby a little tighter.

"It's what Mom said, Dad."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the answer I have."

He stared at her for a long moment.

Then he stood.

He folded the signed pages into the envelope and set it in front of me.

He straightened the edge, very carefully.

"Thank you for hearing me out," he said.

"Goodbye, Mark."

He walked to the door.

He stopped there with his hand on the frame, and his shoulders were stooped, and he looked old.

"You'll let me know," he said, "if you ever change your mind."

"No," I said. "Sophie will."

He nodded, and he went out, and we heard his shoes crunch down the gravel until they were gone.