She froze, her nightgown swirling around her legs when she saw him. Her eyes, so like her mother’s, grew as big as silver dollars. He stood. “Mommy?” she whispered. He couldn’t blame her for the fear. Between the trip here and the night in the chair, he was as stiff as a board and not moving with his usual ease. He might just be getting old. “It’s all right,” he told her with a smile that felt more like a grimace and likely looked like one, too, if her reactions were anything to go by. Wendy took a step back and that chin of hers came up. “You leave my mommy alone.” It seemed to be the child’s battle cry. “Your mommy will always be safe with me.” She looked at him, and her lip slipped between her teeth as she absorbed that. “I’ve go to go potty.” That’s what he’d figured from the way she was shifting from foot to foot.
