Page 36 of Sinful Deception

“Luckily for me, the law exists, and my cop husband has a fondness for my body the way it is. Have you changed your mind about coming to Fletch’s yet? I’m about to walk in, but if you’re coming, I could wait. That way, you’re not arriving alone.”

“I’m working, and you’re so eagerly playing with fire. Your enthusiasm for mine and Charlie’s drama reeks of mean girl vibes.”

“It’s not your drama I want to see. It’s your happiness. Even better if that happiness just so happens to be at the same time, in the same room. I’m gonna walk in and see Mia in a sec.” I stop and swallow the lump in my throat. “Want me to slip my phone into my pocket but leave the call live, so you can hear her?”

“What?” She gasps like my suggestion is oh-so-ridiculous. “That would be entirely inappropriate! If I was that child’s parent, and someone was trying to spy on my child without my permission or knowledge, I’d be pissed.”

“It’s not spying,” I roll my eyes. “It’s getting to be an audience to her existence for just a second. Your vow to stay away remains intact, since she won’t know you’re there, and you still get tohear her for a moment. Sounds like a win-win situation to me. But if you’d prefer I didn’t?—”

“I mean…” She gulps.I’ve won this round. “As long as you don’t tell her. And it’ll just be for a minute. But then I have to get back to work.”

“That’s what I thought. Hang on.” I bring the phone from my ear and check the duration of the call: three minutes and fifty-seven seconds. Then I take care not to hang up as I slide the device into my pocket and start toward the door. I rap my knuckles carefully against the wood just once, so softly that if Mia is sleeping, I won’t wake her. But then I test the door handle and find it unlocked anyway, so I twist it until the catch comes free and push it open to find Aubree first, fussing in the kitchen while behind her, Fletch and Mia are on the couch.

Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood is on the television while Mia is perched on her father’s lap.

They stare at the screen with disinterest. No smiles. No expressions at all except for boredom and vacancy.

Quietly, I close the door again and wait for the snick, then I turn and pass a silently watchful Aubree on my way toward the living room. Daniel Tiger was my constant companion when I was a child. He taught me about fairness. About empathy. Friendship. Sharing. The cartoon tiger and his cohort of friends taught me a lot about society. Or at least, a utopian version of it, anyway.

Certainly not the society we currently experience, where mothers become drug addicts and sick men hurt little girls for fun.

“Hey.” I keep my voice gentle as I approach, so I don’t scare the pair who intently stare at the screen. But when neither looks up, I come around to stand by the coffee table. Then I lower to perch on the wood and try again. “Hey, Mia. How are you, cutie?”

Slowly, consciousness comes back to her eyes. Like she was dreaming while sitting up. Sleeping with her eyes open. Then she looks my way and smiles. It’s small and shaky, but she tries her best. And for that, she deserves the world. “Hey, Aunty Minka. Did you just get here?”

“I did.” I straighten when she climbs off her father’s lap and moves across to mine, instead. Her legs circle my hips and her arms wrap around my neck. Finally, she places her cheek on my shoulder and exhales a breathy sigh so loud, there’s no way Fifi couldn’t hear. “It kinda looks like Aubree’s making lunch, huh?” I stay where I am, if only because Fletch is yet to break his trance with the television, and I wouldn’t feel right getting up and walking away with the girl. “Are you hungry, sweetpea?”

“I guess. A little bit.” She releases me from her choke hold and plays with my hair instead, staring down at the ends and twisting the locks around her fingers. “Today feels weird, huh? Feels like nighttime, maybe. But it’s still light outside.”

“Time moves weird for me sometimes, too.” I study her sweet face and her cheeks, still with the baby fat leftover from infancy. She can’t weigh more than forty pounds and still wears pants her peers might’ve already grown out of. But her arms and cheeks maintain just a little of what she might’ve looked like when she was smaller. “Some days are just strange. And that’s okay.” I lean back and wait for her eyes to come up to mine, still puffy and red, so unbelievably tired. “Have you been watching Daniel Tiger all day, Moo?”

“I watched Bluey at breakfast time.” She flicks my hair. Folding it. Twisting it. “Do youfinkthey have TVs in Heaven?”

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

“Um—”

“Because if they do, maybe Mommy is watching Daniel Tiger, too. And now that she’s not sick anymore, she can probably stay awake for the whole episode, don’t youfink?”

Do I think?

Well?

“Sure.” I reach up and tap the end of her perky nose. “I think Heaven has all the things we, the people who are living, want it to have. Because we love the people who went there, and we know the things that might make them happy. I know your mommy loved you very much, even when she was sick, so she likes the things you do. Like Daniel Tiger and pink crayons. You like craft paint and Care Bears. So I bet Heaven is filled with all that sort of stuff.”

“Do youfinkHeaven has speakers, so all the people who died can still hear us? Because it’s a bit far away, all the way up in the sky. But maybe they have like what we have at school. Ya know, where the principal talks over the speakers to say hello to everyone in the morning?”

“Yeah.” I sniffle, because this little girl’s unending hope for a better world is more powerful than even Daniel Tiger’s. “I think every person up there has their own personal speaker. So all the people they loved can say hello and they’ll hear us. I don’t know if you know.” I push off the table, carefully holding her weight and helping her wrap her legs around my hips so she doesn’t fall. But then I take her to the window that looks out to the street, and glance up to the cloudy, dreary sky that’ll dump snow on us again soon.

Any minute now, to be honest.

“But my mom and my dad are both in Heaven. They died at different times, but both times were still a long time ago. I was sad the first time, but not as sad the second, because I knew they would be together in Heaven again. But then I wondered if they could talk to us. Ya know, like how they have speakers to hear us?”

Her eyes dance with soft, devastating tears that sit on the brim but don’t spill over.

“So I knew I could tell them I loved them at any time. But I wondered if they could say it back.”

“Could they?” She grows a little lighter. Not her weight. But her grief. Her hope. “Did they say it back?”

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