Chapter 15 - The Morning the Truck Came Back
The next spring, Piper heard the garbage truck before Grant did.
She was eating cereal at the townhouse kitchen table when the hydraulic brakes sighed outside.
Her spoon stopped.
Grant watched her.
He did not say, “It’s okay.”
He had learned not to answer fear before she expressed it.
Piper climbed down from the chair.
“Is it Cal?”
Grant looked through the window.
A familiar yellow uniform.
“Yep.”
Piper ran toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Can I go?”
“With me.”
Grant opened the front door.
Cal was walking toward the bins.
Piper shouted, “Truck Cal!”
He turned.
“Oh no. Management.”
She laughed and ran down the short walkway with Grant beside her.
Cal crouched.
“You inspecting my work again?”
“Yes.”
“Bad news?”
“You missed Daddy’s box.”
Grant looked.
An empty shipping carton sat beside the recycling bin.
Cal sighed theatrically.
“I’m getting sloppy.”
Piper pointed toward the truck.
“Can I see?”
Cal glanced at Grant.
Grant nodded.
They stayed well away from the rear mechanism.
Cal showed Piper the cab from the sidewalk and explained where he sat.
Nothing more.
No reenactment.
No lesson about danger.
Just a truck.
When Cal left, Piper waved until he turned the corner.
Then she took Grant’s hand.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Nadine said you wouldn’t know I was gone.”
Grant looked down at her.
Months had passed since Piper last mentioned that sentence.
“I know.”
“You did know.”
“Cal found you. Then he called me.”
“But you came.”
Grant crouched.
“Yes.”
Piper considered this carefully.
Then asked, “Would you always come?”
The instinctive answer was yes.
The parent answer was more careful.
“If you need me, I will do everything I can to get to you.”
Piper nodded.
That satisfied her.
She skipped toward the house.
Grant remained beside the curb for a moment.
The divorce had been finalized three weeks earlier.
The house was sold.
Nadine continued treatment and remained bound by the restrictions surrounding Piper.
Grant had received one letter from her after the divorce.
He had not opened it.
His attorney had told him it contained no legal information.
So Grant put it in a drawer.
Not destroyed.
Not answered.
Piper called from the doorway.
“Daddy! Breakfast!”
“I’m coming.”
Grant turned toward her.
On the kitchen counter sat the unopened letter.
He did not know whether Nadine had written an apology, an explanation, or another attempt to be understood.
For the first time since marrying her, Grant did not feel required to find out immediately.
He walked inside.
Piper climbed into her chair and pushed his coffee toward him.
“You forgot this.”
“Thanks.”
Outside, the garbage truck moved farther down the street.
Piper did not look toward the sound again.
Grant did.
May you like
Only once.
Then he closed the door.
