Chapter 5
Mia was released from the hospital two days later.
The pneumonia was gone, chased away by antibiotics and Elias's very serious promise of unlimited Popsicles. She skipped out of the hospital doors, her IV site covered with a sparkly unicorn bandage, chattering about the pony she was going to get and the castle they were all going to live in.
Elias listened to every word.
He had not left the hospital once in those forty-eight hours. He had slept in the plastic chair by Mia's bed, his coat for a blanket, waking every hour just to watch her breathe. He had brought Lila coffee and sandwiches, had sat in silence while she cried, had answered every question she asked about Ellie, about her grandmother, about the life they should have had.
Now he stood by the passenger door of his truck, holding it open for them.
Lila paused before getting in. She looked at the old Ford F-150, at the worn leather seats, at the sticker on the back window that read Bennett & Son Jewelers—Est. 1982.
"Bennett & Son," she said, reading it. "Where's the son?"
Elias's smile faded a little. "There never was one. I always hoped Ellie would take over the business someday. I kept the name anyway. Just in case."
Lila said nothing. She climbed in, lifted Mia onto her lap.
Elias got behind the wheel. Turned the key. The engine rumbled to life, deep and steady. He had bought this truck the year Ellie was born. Drove it every day since. It was the only thing he owned that was older than her disappearance.
"Where to?" he asked.
Lila hesitated. "Home, I guess. The apartment."
Elias nodded, but he didn't put the truck in drive. He sat there, hands on the wheel, staring through the windshield at the hospital parking lot.
"Lila," he said carefully. "That apartment... it's not safe. The wiring is bad, the heating barely works, and the landlord told the police he's evicting you next week because you're two months behind on rent."
Lila's head snapped around. "You talked to my landlord?"
"I had to make sure you and Mia were okay. Detective Vasquez helped me look into a few things." Elias turned to look at her. His face was open. Honest. "You don't have to go back there. I have a house. Three bedrooms. Big backyard. It's just been me and the ghosts for twenty years. It's too big for one person. Way too big. I want you and Mia to move in. No rent. No bills. Nothing. It's yours for as long as you want it. Forever, if that's what you need."
Lila stared at him.
"You want us to move in with you?" she said, disbelieving. "A stranger? You don't even know us."
"I know you're my family," Elias said simply. "And I know you've spent your whole life taking care of everyone else with no one to take care of you. Let me do this. Please. Let me be the grandfather I should have been from the beginning."
It was too much. Too fast.
Lila's whole life had been about survival. About not trusting anyone who offered something for nothing. About learning the hard way that every handout came with a string attached.
And now this man—this man who had been twelve miles away her entire mother's life, who could have given them everything, who had haggled over eight dollars when her daughter was dying—was offering her the world.
"I can't," she said. Her voice shook. "Elias, I appreciate it, I do, but I can't just... move into your house. I don't know you. I don't know if this is real or if you're going to change your mind next week or—"
"Then let's do it slow," Elias interrupted. "How about this? You stay at the house for one week. One week. While you look for a new place. While you get back on your feet. If after seven days you hate it, you hate me, you never want to see me again, I'll help you find the nicest apartment in the city. Pay the first year's rent. Buy you all new furniture. Whatever you want. No hard feelings. But give me seven days. That's all I ask."
He held up seven fingers. Earnest. Desperate.
"Seven days," he repeated. "For Mia. So she doesn't have to sleep in a cold apartment with no hot water while you figure things out."
Lila looked down at her daughter. Mia had fallen asleep on her lap, her head resting against Lila's chest, one hand still curled around the last of her Popsicle stick. Her unicorn bandage was already peeling at the edges.
Seven days.
What could it hurt?
"Okay," Lila whispered. "Seven days. But if you do anything weird—anything at all—I'm out of there. And I'm taking Mia with me."
Elias exhaled. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Deal," he said. He put the truck in drive. "You won't regret it, Lila. I promise."
---
The house was on a quiet, tree-lined street in the old part of town.
Brick. Two stories. A porch swing that creaked in the wind. A white picket fence that needed painting. The same house Elias and Eleanor had bought when they found out they were expecting Ellie. The same house he had lived in alone for twenty years.
He pulled into the driveway. Cut the engine.
"Home sweet home," he said, more to himself than to them.
Lila got out, holding Mia, and looked up at the house. It was nice. Nicer than any place she had ever lived. But there was something sad about it. The curtains were all drawn. The lawn was overgrown. It looked like a house that had been holding its breath for a very long time.
Elias unlocked the front door. Stepped aside.
"After you."
Lila walked in.
The house smelled like cedar and old books and lemon polish. Exactly like Mia's great-grandfather. The furniture was old but well cared for. Polished wood, soft rugs, framed photographs covering every wall.
Lila stopped in the entryway.
Every single photograph was of the same two people.
A beautiful woman with dark hair and a smile that could light up a room. Eleanor Sr.
And a little girl with the same smile, the same eyes, growing older year by year until she was six years old.
And then the photographs stopped.
The last one was dated June 13, 1995. The day before Ellie disappeared. She was covered in ice cream, grinning at the camera, missing her two front teeth.
Lila stared at it.
She had seen that face a hundred times in the mirror. In Mia's face. In her mother's old photographs.
"That's her," Elias said quietly from behind her. "That's your mother. The last day she was home."
Lila reached out. Touched the glass. Cold under her fingers.
"She was so beautiful," she whispered.
"She still is," Elias said. "In you. In Mia."
He walked past her into the living room. Began opening curtains, letting light flood into rooms that had been dark for decades. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams.
"Your room is at the top of the stairs, on the right," he called over his shoulder. "Mia's is next to it. I had them all cleaned. Fresh sheets, new towels. There are toys in Mia's room. I went shopping yesterday. I may have gone a little overboard. The saleslady thought I was crazy."
Lila carried Mia up the stairs.
The hallway was lined with more photographs. Weddings. Birthdays. Christmases. A whole family history that should have included her mother. Should have included her. Should have included Mia.
She pushed open the door to what was supposed to be her room.
It was perfect.
Soft blue walls. A big bed with a down comforter. A dresser with a mirror. A desk in the corner by the window. On the nightstand, there was a vase of fresh flowers. Daisies. Her mother's favorite.
Lila's throat tightened.
She carried Mia into the next room.
It was a four-year-old's dream. Pink walls. A canopy bed with sparkly curtains. Stuffed animals covering every surface—bears, bunnies, unicorns, three different kinds of ponies. A tiny table and chairs set. A bookshelf full of picture books. In the corner, a dollhouse that looked like it cost more than Lila's car.
Mia woke up the moment her feet hit the floor.
She looked around. Blinked. Rubbed her eyes.
Then she screamed. A happy scream. The kind that only little girls can make when they realize all their birthdays have come at once.
"Mommy! Look! It's a castle! It's my castle!" She ran to the dollhouse, then to the bed, then to the pile of stuffed animals, diving into them like they were a swimming pool. "Mommy, look at the pony! He has wings! Mommy, can we stay forever? Please please please?"
Lila stood in the doorway, tears running down her face.
She had tried so hard to give Mia everything. Worked two jobs. Skipped meals. Sold everything she owned. And she had never, ever been able to give her anything like this.
Elias appeared in the doorway behind her. He had his hands in his pockets, looking suddenly shy. Like a little boy showing off his favorite toy.
"Too much?" he asked. "I wasn't sure what she liked. The lady at the store said four-year-old girls like pink and ponies. I may have taken that a little too literally."
Lila turned to him.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why are you doing all this?"
Elias looked past her, at Mia, who was now galloping around the room on a stuffed unicorn, making horse noises at the top of her lungs.
"Because I couldn't do it for your mother," he said simply. "I missed her first steps. Her first day of school. Her graduation. Her wedding. The day she had you. Every single thing a father is supposed to be there for, I missed. And I can't get any of that back. I can't bring her back. But I can be here for you. For Mia. I can make sure neither of you ever has to worry about money or rent or antibiotics or anything ever again. It doesn't fix what happened. But it's the only thing I have left to give."
He paused. Swallowed hard.
"And selfishly... I want to get to know you. Both of you. I want to be the grandpa who comes to soccer games and dance recitals. Who teaches Mia how to fish and how to fix a bike and how to tell when a diamond is real. I want to hear about your mother from you. The parts I never got to see. The woman she became. I want... I want my family back."
Lila looked at him. Really looked at him.
For the first time, she didn't see a stranger. She saw an old man who had spent half his life in mourning. Who had woken up every morning for thirty-one years to an empty house and a broken heart. Who had been given a second chance and was terrified of blowing it.
She stepped forward.
And hugged him.
It was awkward at first. Elias froze, his hands hovering in the air, like he was afraid if he touched her she would vanish. Then slowly, carefully, he wrapped his arms around her. Held her tight. Like he was never going to let go again.
"Thank you," Lila whispered into his shoulder.
Elias closed his eyes.
"Thank you," he said. "For giving me a chance."
Downstairs, the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed three times.
Outside, the sun came out.
And upstairs, in a pink bedroom full of ponies and unicorns, Mia Bennett-Carter rode her stuffed unicorn into battle, completely unaware that she had just become the most important person in three generations of broken hearts.
Seven days.
Lila thought about it as she stood there, in the arms of the grandfather she had never known.
Seven days had seemed like more than enough time to decide if she could trust him.
May you like
But as she listened to Mia laughing, as she felt Elias's heart beating against hers, she realized something.
Seven days wasn't going to be nearly enough.
