5 Vale of Tears

"Boys and girls waved at the big black engine."

"A-diss?"

"That's the train."

"A-chwain?"

"Yep."

"A-diss?"

"A car."

"Taw?"

"Yep."

"A-diss?"

"That's a kite."

"Tite?"

"Yep."

"A-diss?"

"That's a house."

"House?"

It was never going to end.

Edward had assumed when he'd begun Alice's bedtime story that he would open the book, read each page in sequence, and then close the book.

Alice's idea of a bedtime story was much more fluid. He hadn't anticipated so much conversation about the illustrations, nor had he expected to be moving forward and backward through the pages at Alice's whim. This was the fourth time they'd visited this particular page.

"A-diss?"

"A horse."

Alice started emitting a stuttering, high-pitched squeal that had freaked him out when she'd first done it. Eventually he'd figured out that she was neighing. "Yite a hoassy," she'd explained rationally.

"They listened to the boxcars and the oil cars and the coal cars—"

"A-diss?"

"That's a town. One without a decent hotel, by the looks of it." He flipped several pages, confident that Alice wouldn't know the difference. "The train went slower—"

"A-diss?"

"That's . . . wow. A tipi." He glanced down at Alice, with her copper skin and fine black hair, and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable with the stereotyped depiction of an indigenous settlement. He'd probably read this book hundreds of times as a kid and he didn't remember this picture being in it. But then, it wasn't his culture being so narrowly portrayed.

"A-diss?"

"That's smoke from the fire."

He felt like he should talk about it with her, but he didn't feel prepared to do it right. Was this a misrepresentation, after all? It wasn't like there had never been a tribe that lived in tipis or wore feathered headbands. And it wasn't like he thought that traditional clothing should be left out of a discussion of native cultures. He was just pretty sure that the picture he was seeing was reductive. Also, he had an inkling that maybe people living high in the mountains probably didn't use structures as flimsy and uninsulated as tipis? But he didn't actually know.

And anyway, was Alice prepared for a conversation like this? He doubted her ability to appreciate a nuanced discussion of First Nations history. But it felt wrong to allow her to absorb this kind of imagery without addressing it, even at her age.

"A-diss?" she asked, inevitably pointing to several figures gathered in a circle, wrapped in blankets and adorned with feathers.

"That's . . . a group of neighbors relaxing after a long day and hopefully enjoying full sovereignty over their traditional homeland."

"A-diss?"

"That's a train."

"A-wed a-boose," she corrected him.

"Yes, the little red caboose."

He didn't feel like he'd handled that phenomenally well, but at least he hadn't let the picture stand unchallenged. He wondered if he could get his hands on a more accurate picture book so Alice could get some exposure to her real heritage. He'd have to Google it.

He'd also have to see if he could find out what tribe she belonged to.

Alice wasn't showing any signs of being ready to go to sleep, a fact which he found disheartening. Carlisle had told him about a bedtime routine, which was supposed to help Alice wind down at night. The tooth-brushing came first, and Edward had braced himself for an ordeal. But as it turned out, Alice had a Sesame Street-themed electric toothbrush that sang a song to her while she used it. That, along with sparkly toothpaste, made her view the task as a fun game. Edward had only had to remind her to move the toothbrush around in her mouth and she'd done the rest on her own.

After that came bathtime, and while Edward had hoped for a five-minute scrub, Alice had had other ideas. She'd unearthed a bucket of plastic toys from under the bathroom sink and settled in for a lengthy play session. Edward had weighed the consequence of taking the toys away versus waiting for her to be ready, and he'd decided he could wait. He'd fetched his tablet and spent the time working up some possible character designs for the Caius Christopher book.

When Alice's fingers were good and wrinkly, she had declared bathtime finished. Edward had barely gotten her dried off, however, when she'd taken off, running bare-ass naked through the house and squealing in taboo delight. Edward had run after her, but he'd been laughing nearly as hard as she was, and that may have impaired his efforts to catch up with her. When he'd finally swept her up and hauled her back to the changing table, the two of them had been breathless and still indulging in intermittent giggles.

Now, attired in an excessively ruffled nightgown, Alice was in bed. She was fully engaged in the story, though, and showed no signs at all of winding down. Edward was pinning all his hopes on the bedtime song being the thing that coaxed her to sleep, but it didn't look promising.

He let Alice enjoy a few more minutes of pointing and chattering before he deliberately flipped to the last page. "The end. Wasn't that a great story?"

"Weed a-din?"

He closed the book and set it aside. "Ready for your bedtime song?"

"Uh-huh." She snuggled down in the blankets, but then popped up again with a gasp. "Hammye pendy puss!"

"You don't need any toys. It's bedtime."

"Hattoo!" she declared scrambling out of bed.

Edward sighed. He could have grabbed her before she ran away, but he wasn't up for another crying jag. "Alice, come on," he said, standing and trudging after her. "It's bedtime."

By the time he made it to the living room, Alice had located her purse and was heading back to bed. He followed after her, watching her climb up into bed and hug her purse to her like it was a teddy bear.

"Seen a sonn!" she declared.

"Okay. Ready for your bedtime song?"

"Uh-huh. Tine I fee-o . . ."

"Hang on, I'm going to do this right." He pulled out his phone and Googled the lyrics. "Here we go. Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner . . ." He sang through the song using the lyrics as a guide, but when he finished, Alice didn't look even marginally more ready to sleep.

Edward tucked the blankets around her anyway, hoping she'd play along with his expectations. "All right, kiddo, sweet dreams."

"Tiss nigh-nigh?"

"What?"

She sat up and opened her arms, and he allowed her a hug. She made a show of kissing his cheek and he returned the gesture.

"Okay. Good night." He tucked the blankets around her again and stood to leave.

Alice scrambled out of bed and followed after him, dragging her purse along with her.

"No, Alice, you have to go to bed now."

"Seepishoo," she explained.

"You sleep here. This is your bed."

She shook her head. "Seepishoo."

"No, come on." He picked her up and put her back in bed, and she let him tuck her in again. "Young ladies are old enough to sleep in their own beds."

"Um. No." As soon as he stood up, she crawled out from under the blankets again.

"Alice," he growled in frustration," it's bedtime. You have to stay in bed."

"Seepishoo."

"I don't want you to sleep with me."

"Yes. Hattoo."

"No!"

Alice's face crumpled up at his harsh tone and he groaned.

"I'm sorry. I don't want to be mean. But you have to sleep in your own bed."

She opened up her mouth and let out a wail that very quickly turned into "WAN DAAAADDYYYYYYY."

He sighed and pulled her into his arms for a cuddle. "I know," he muttered. "Me too."

He held out hope for a few more minutes that Alice would calm down and sleep in her bed, but eventually he surrendered and carried her into the guest room. He stripped down to his boxer-briefs and put on a fresh T-shirt, then got into bed with Alice and resigned himself to another uncomfortable night with a baby snuggled up against his side.


The next morning he woke up to jostling beside him on the bed. He cracked one eye open and looked at Alice, who was standing beside him facing the foot of the bed, a pillow placed in front of her. As he watched, she took the tiniest baby jump and leapt onto the pillow, belly-first. She landed on the soft pad and giggled happily.

"Why?" he grumbled. "Why do you have to be a morning person?"

She turned to look at him. "Teenty."

He watched her tugging at her diaper, and yes, she definitely needed a change. He could smell it.

He dragged himself through a diaper change and breakfast with the kid, and he even worked a little on the Caius Christopher drawings while Alice happily ate her banana slices and played with her scrambled eggs. But his mind kept drifting back to the viewing this evening. He still wasn't sure whether it was a good idea to take Alice to see her father's body. One moment he thought it might help her understand the finality of death, and the next he was afraid it might give her nightmares. Or, of course, it was possible that it would mean nothing to her at all. He really had no idea what she was able to understand.

"I need advice," he told Alice. "From an expert. And . . . I need advice on finding an expert."

He didn't really know anyone who could help, but he thought he might know someone who was profession-adjacent. Carlisle had given him a phone number and a promise to assist in any way he could, so Edward pulled out his phone and texted him.

Do you know any good child therapists I could get an appointment with right away?

A moment later a reply came back.

Possibly. There's a woman with a practice in Port Angeles who sometimes comes out to work with our younger patients. She has weekend appointments. Give me a few minutes and I'll get her contact information.

Edward doodled on his tablet and let Alice chatter at him for a few more minutes, until a text message arrived with a phone number and an address. Edward called the number, and when a man answered, he said, "Hi, I'm hoping to get a last-minute appointment with Dr. Fitzpatrick. I don't suppose she has any openings today?"

The receptionist consulted his calendar and discovered that there had been a cancellation in the afternoon, which Edward eagerly claimed. He gave some personal information, received instructions to arrive early to complete new patient paperwork, and then hung up the phone.

"You want to go to Port Angeles today?" he asked Alice.

"Junjawiss?"

He grinned at her mangled pronunciation. "What do you think? Want to take a drive?"

"Hassum weentine? Tonto?"

"I don't know what that is."

Alice started trying to squirm out of her high chair. "So you," she said, struggling against the straps.

"Hang on." Edward headed to the kitchen and wetted a cloth, returning to wipe her hands and face before he freed her. As soon as he set her on the ground, Alice raced to the entertainment center and started digging through DVDs. She found the one she wanted and held it out to him triumphantly. "Tonto!"

Edward took it from her. "Encanto? Sure. You can watch that on the way."

"Oh, YES!" She gave an unsteady baby jump in excitement, and though her landing was rocky, she managed to stay on her feet.

"Cool. I mean, it's not time yet, but we'll leave pretty soon. Let's brush your teeth." He was learning quickly that things took about four times as long as they should when Alice was involved, so he figured he'd better start getting her ready now.

Alice was already running toward the bathroom, so Edward followed her. She cleaned her teeth and then chose a white dress with so many drop-gathers that it made her skirt look like a mound of meringue. But she was thrilled with it and Edward was resigned to the necessity of catering to her dress fetish. They still had a few hours before they needed to leave, though, so when Alice went to the back door and asked to play outside, Edward couldn't see the harm in it. He checked the weather, and while it was gray and overcast, there was no actively falling rain. He figured as long as it stayed dry outside, Alice might as well take advantage of it. He grabbed his tablet and opened the door, settling himself on the porch while Alice ran across the patch of grass to a large hunk of plastic against the back fence. It was green, at least three feet in diameter, and vaguely shaped like a turtle.

"Hope!" she called, tugging at the turtle's shell. "Uh-wud! Hope!"

Edward followed her and pulled off the shell, revealing a basin filled with sand. He put the top aside as Alice clambered in and started unburying various toys from the depths of the sandbox. With her distracted and happy, Edward returned to the porch and sketched away at a couple of political cartoons he'd been developing. He glanced up frequently, always staying aware of where Alice was as she darted around the yard, fetching scattered toys and dragging them back to her sandbox. He felt pretty safe letting her play in a fenced yard, but he didn't want to be the guy who stopped paying attention and lost a baby.

He was looking down at his tablet, though, when she let out a shriek.

He tossed the tablet aside and jumped to his feet, locating where she stood on the grass. She broke out into sobs, staring down at her dress, and Edward felt himself start to panic.

"What's wrong? Did you fall? Are you hurt?"

"Pity jwess!" Alice wailed.

Edward looked down at her dress and examined the clinging dirt and the large grass stain on her skirt.

"Are you worried that it's dirty?" he asked her.

"Mess!" she wailed.

He sighed. "Yeah. It got dirty. I don't know what you thought would happen when you came out here to play in the dirt."

She wailed louder.

"You want to put on a clean dress?"

She stopped crying and sniffled. "Uh-huh."

"Come on. I'll help you."

He reached for her hand and she let him lead her inside and back to her bedroom. He stripped off her dress, but when he moved to drop it in the hamper, she shrieked and snatched it back.

"No a-dobij! No a-dobij!"

Edward frowned. He'd heard that word, though he couldn't remember what it meant. He should be writing these things down. He could make a baby glossary to help him figure out what she was saying.

"Garbage?" he said, finally remembering.

"No!"

"It's okay, I'm not going to throw it in the garbage. I just want to put it in the laundry so we can wash it."

"Wash it?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we'll . . ." he examined the dress. "We'll take it to the cleaners. I'm sure they can get the stains out."

"No a-dobij," she repeated.

"I won't put it in the garbage, I promise."

She released it reluctantly and he made sure she saw when he dropped it into the hamper.

"What should we wear next?" he asked her.

"Peent wun!"

Alice's new choice sported elaborate golden applique on the satin pink top with, once again, a skirt so poofy that it seemed absurd. He shook his head, imagining stuffing the thing into a car seat, but he let her have her way. He'd manage.

But when Alice wanted to go back outside, he stopped her.

"Your dress will just get dirty again," he told her.

"Doody?" she asked, looking alarmed.

"Yeah. We don't want to have to change your clothes again. Let's play inside for a little while."

"Um. Hassum jwums?"

"I don't know what that is. Show me."

Alice went into the kitchen and started unloading some big metal pots from a low cupboard, turning them upside down on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked her.

"Hassum jwums," she explained. She crossed the kitchen and stretched up on her toes, straining to reach the counter. "Hope. Uh-wud. Hope."

He lifted her up and she reached for a container of kitchen utensils on the counter. He held her close and she selected a wooden spoon and a wire whisk. Satisfied, she squirmed out of his arms and started walking down the line of pots on the floor, smacking them with the utensils. She giggled at the sound they made and looked up at him for his approval.

"Oh, good. This is a peaceful game."

She grinned in response, her nose scrunching up in her enthusiasm, and started smacking the pots again.

Edward resigned himself to it. It was noisy but harmless. He turned to grab his tablet again, but Alice called after him.

"Uh-wud! A-jwums!"

He turned back to her, and she was holding out her whisk for him.

"You want me to do it?"

"Uh-huh."

He shrugged and accepted the whisk, sitting down in front of the pots. He started tapping out a steady beat, alternating pots here and there while she smacked happily with her wooden spoon with no discernible rhythm.

Edward surprised himself by getting earnestly involved in the activity. Alice was delighted by the different sounds that her "drumsticks" made, so Edward found more options for her. He collected a rubber spatula, a metal spoon, a plastic brush, and various other kitchen utensils that they used to create a variety of sounds. He tapped out patterns with different brushes to see how well Alice could copy them. They tested the sounds of smaller pots vs. larger ones. And Alice may have combed her own hair, and then Edward's, with the brush. He was surprised when he glanced at his watch to see that more than an hour had gone by.

At his insistence, Alice helped him clean up. Which meant he lifted her up so she could put the utensils in the dishwasher, after which he loaded it up with pans. He was just fine using kitchen tools as toys, but he wasn't about to eat off of things that had been on the floor and in their hair.

He finished with the pots and pans and did a thorough cleaning of the kitchen. He was a meticulously neat person by habit, though the last couple of days hadn't necessarily shown that. Somehow, outside things had kept him from his habitual straightening. With Alice demanding his constant attention, he had less bandwidth for tidying. He took the time now, though, to put the kitchen and dining area into good order and then he fixed his gaze on Alice, who was once again unloading toys from her purse onto the floor under the table.

"Alice," he said, "I really need to take a shower."

She looked up at him. "A-hope you?"

"Will you sit and watch TV while I shower?" he asked her.

"Teebee?" she asked with interest.

"Yeah. You want to watch a show?"

"A-fia!" she cried joyfully, crawling away from the mess she'd left under the table.

"What is that? Can you show me?" He followed Alice into the living room where she handed him the remote control from an end table. He turned on the TV, but I didn't know where to find whatever show "a-fia" was and he doubted Alice could help him with that.

"How about Netflix?" he said, selecting the service.

"Yes!"

Which didn't mean he was on the right track, exactly, but sure, there was probably something here that she'd like. He selected the children's profile.

"A-fia!" Alice exclaimed brightly.

"Which one?"

"Diss!" She pointed at the TV.

Edward scanned the options on the screen. "What? My Little Pony? Fairly Oddparents?"

"A-fia!" She hurried to the TV and pointed, stretching up on her toes, so Edward lifted her to help her reach. "Diss!"

"Sofia the First?"

"Yes!" She threw up her hands in delight.

"Sofia it is. Here you go." He set her on the sofa and started the cartoon for her, but considering how his last attempt at a shower went, he didn't dawdle. He hurried down the hall to the bathroom and jumped into the shower before the water had even gotten warm. He only took time for a quick shampoo and lather before he shut off the water and hurriedly dried off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and jogged back to the living room to find Alice still engrossed in Sofia the First. No passive watcher of television, she was standing in front of the sofa, waving her arms above her head.

Edward glanced at the TV, where an animated princess was also waving her arms above her head to cast some sort of magic spell. He scanned the room and was pleased to find that the wall remained un-drawn-upon and everything looked intact and in order. Good. He ran back down the hall and found a clean suit to put on, because, yeah, he still hadn't done laundry and all he had was his dry cleaning.

When he got back to the living room, Alice had her hands stretched out to the sides and she was teetering from side to side, her eyes still fixed on the screen. The TV wasn't showing any such action; it seemed like she was just entertaining herself. Adorable little weirdo.

The next hurdle was to pack a diaper bag. Edward started unboxing all of the supplies he'd bought, but even with the packaging removed, he couldn't fit everything into one bag. And that was even before he added an extra dress, because experience was teaching him that changing clothes was part of Alice's regular routine. So once again he filled a backpack and a tote bag—and then he slipped a tablet into a pocket for himself in case he had a long wait. The Caius Christopher thing really was intriguing. Despite all he had going on, he was impatient to meet with Christopher's ostracized niece and see what she had.

Once he was all packed up, he interrupted Alice in her TV watching.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked her.

"Ose doween?"

"Port Angeles, remember?"

"Junjawiss?"

"Right."

"Tonto?"

"Yes, we can watch Encanto. Do you still have it?"

"Yes!" She jumped up and recovered the DVD from where she'd left it on the floor in front of the entertainment center.

"Cool. Come on, shorty."

"Mon soty," she repeated.

Edward grinned and slung the backpack onto his back.

He got Alice buckled into her carseat and set the movie going, but when he was backing down the driveway she suddenly burst out, "Pendy puss! Hammye pendy puss!"

"You don't need your pendy puss. We're going to see a therapist."

"Yes! Hattoo! Hammye pendy puss!"

He sighed and reversed direction, heading back into the garage. "Fine. I'll go get it." He closed up the garage and went back into the house. He piled her toys back into the purse and took it back out to her, then climbed into the car once again.

"We good? You didn't forget anything else?"

"A-fia?"

He shook his head. "Let's just stick with Encanto."

She seemed satisfied, so he opened the garage and headed out again.


The therapist's office was in a strip mall, which Edward found less than inspiring. Still, beggars and choosers and all. He lifted Alice out of the car and handed her her pendy puss. Then he collected the diaper bags and guided her to the door. He checked in with the receptionist and settled down in an uncomfortable wooden chair to fill out forms. Alice sat down on the floor at his feet and opened her purse.

He wasn't paying enough attention to Alice. When he finished the last of the forms, he glanced down at her and sighed.

"Kid, don't spread all that around on the floor. No—hey, come on, you don't need to dump it upside down. Here. Just take what you want right now and keep the rest inside." He handed the forms to the receptionist and then knelt down with Alice, piling toys back in her bag.

"No! Out!" Alice grabbed them and pulled them back out again.

"You can have some of it," he said. "Show me what you're playing with."

She selected a small stuffed pig and a plastic hammer."

"Okay, you hold those and I'll put the rest away."

He was kneeling on the floor putting toys back in the bag when a door opened and a small family emerged. They said goodbye to the doctor and then the receptionist indicated that it was Edward's turn. He hurriedly stuffed the last handful of marbles into the purse and collected all of the bags again.

Dr. Fitzpatrick was a large woman with thick black hair that fell past her waist. She showed them to a large office that was filled with toys and games. Alice spotted a large plastic dragon on a shelf and made a beeline for it, tossing her pig and her hammer aside.

"Dy-soze!" she exclaimed. "Uh-wud! Dy-soze! Habbit!"

"You want to play with the dragon?" Dr. Fitzpatrick offered.

"Oh, YES!"

"Edward, would you mind getting that down for her?"

He handed Alice the dragon and sat down on a sofa while Alice ran around it, making growling noises as she flew her dragon through the air.

"So, Mr. Masen—"

"Doctor."

"Excuse me, Dr. Masen. You're both looking nice. Do you have plans today?"

"Uh. Maybe." Edward told her about his father's death and the revelation of Alice's existence. "The thing is," he said, "I don't know a thing about kids and I don't know how to explain to her what death means. She's always asking for Dad and I don't have any idea what to say. And now there's a viewing tonight, and I don't know whether taking her to it would help her or freak her the hell out."

She nodded in sympathy. "It's hard to know how much kids this age can really comprehend. I believe they understand more than they're often given credit for, but something as abstract as death can be difficult. Still, I'm not sure understanding is really necessary here."

Edward saw Alice stumble and reached out to keep her from falling. "How could it not be necessary?"

"Alice cries for her father because she misses him and wants him back. Do you think understanding that he can't come back will change how she feels?"

"Yeah. I mean, she'll still be sad, but at least she'll know that he didn't abandon her. That he'd still be here if he could."

"And you believe that's a distinction that she's making? That she's angry at him for disappearing?"

"No. I guess not."

"Diss," Alice said. She had abandoned her dragon and was reaching toward another shelf. "Uh-wud. A-wed a-boose. Pease?"

"You want to play with the train?" he asked, looking to Dr. Fitzpatrick for permission.

"Sure, you can play with that," she agreed. "Edward, will you get it down for her?"

Edward fetched the train, and when Alice was dragging it around the carpet making choo-choo noises, he sat back down.

"At Alice's age," Dr. Fizpatrick said, "loss is probably the same whether there was malicious intent behind it or not. In fact, age is less of a factor than we might like to think. Are you angry at your father for leaving you?"

Obviously he wasn't. That would be irrational. Except . . .

"Yeah. A little bit. I don't know if it's for leaving so much as leaving without telling me about Alice, but . . . I can't do this alone. I need him, and he's not here. It kinda pisses me off."

"Those are completely normal feelings. And you have a right to them, just like Alice has a right to hers. You're both going to miss him fiercely, whether or not you understand the reason for his absence."

Edward was blinking fast, trying to hold back the tears. "So what about the viewing? Do you think it wouldn't be worth taking her?"

"It's hard to say. I usually try to err on the side of giving as much information as possible, because children do seem to pick up more than we realize. But if you get the sense that it would be harmful for her, certainly keep her away from it."

"I have no idea. I don't even know her."

"I suspect you know more than you think you do. Trust your gut."

"My gut told me to find someone else to tell me what to do."

She smiled. "I wish I could do that. But let me say this: if you decide to take her, make sure you tell her exactly what she's going to see before you go in. Even if she doesn't understand, try to help her be prepared for it."

"And what if she freaks out when she sees his body?"

"Be there for her. Let her work through it. I know it's hard having to deal with a crying child, but she has to cry. She won't get around these feelings; she has to get through them." She fixed him with a steady gaze. "And so do you."

He sighed. "I know. I do. Everything's so much about Alice right now that I've hardly had any time to process."

"Is there anyone you can ask for help? Someone who can watch her while you take some time for yourself?"

He nodded, thinking of Carlisle. "Yeah. That's a good idea."

"Shall we see if we can talk with Alice a little bit about her dad?"

Edward winced. "I usually try not to remind her of him."

"I understand, but she has to go through her feelings."

"Alice, will you come sit and talk with us?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked.

Edward started to rise to pick her up, but the doctor waved him down again. She waited patiently while Alice gathered up the pieces of the train and brought them to the sofa, where Edward lifted her up onto the cushion next to him.

"Do you remember your daddy?" Dr. Fitzpatrick asked.

"Daddy he-o?" Alice asked, perking up.

Dr. Fitzpatrick didn't answer. Instead she said, "Was your daddy tall?"

"Uh-huh. See Daddy?"

"We can't see him anymore, but we can remember him. What color of hair did your daddy have?"

She spent several minutes coaxing Alice to talk about her dad, always using the past tense, always gently holding firm that they wouldn't be seeing him again. And, inevitably, Alice cried. She protested that she wanted her Daddy, and Dr. Fitzpatrick offered genuine sympathy and then steered her back to remembering him and talking about the fun things they had done together. Edward wouldn't say Alice was happy at the end of the conversation, but she wasn't wailing disconsolately, and that was more than he'd ever been able to accomplish.

When they released Alice to play with a plush bunny that had caught her eye, Dr. Fitzpatrick turned back to Edward.

"Let's talk about how we can make the transition easiest on Alice at home. You've been staying at your dad's house, right? When do you plan to move her into your place?"

"Um. I'm not sure that I'm going to. I'm meeting with the lawyers on Monday to go over Dad's will, and it's entirely possible that he'll have designated someone else as Alice's guardian."

"You haven't read a copy of it yourself?"

He shook his head. "I haven't had the attention span for it, really. Besides, Dad's will is going to be long and complicated. I'll probably need a lawyer to break it down for me."

"I see. Well, let's talk about what we can do for sure. Consistency is probably what will help Alice the most. Staying in the house for a while could be helpful, as could maintaining her usual schedule. If she has a regular babysitter or frequent playdates, it can be helpful to keep them for as long as possible. The fewer things you change at once, the better.

Edward thought about taking Alice back to his apartment in Olympia and grimaced. He couldn't really live with her there. He'd have to get a new place. But either way, she'd be in an entirely new environment. No familiar home, no familiar activities, no familiar neighbor next door who understood her when she spoke. He didn't really see a way to do that gradually.

It was looking more and more like Carlisle would be a better guardian for her. And Edward would be willing to bet that his father had known that. If Edward had been designated as the kid's legal guardian upon his father's death, surely he would have been notified. He was becoming more and more certain that he wouldn't be asked to take responsibility for Alice.

But that didn't mean he couldn't help with the transition. He would do whatever he could to make it easier for her. So he spent a few minutes talking about how he could smooth the path from Alice's old life to her new one.

When the conversation started to wind down, Dr. Fitzpatrick glanced at a clock on the wall. "We're nearly out of time," she said. "Is there anything else you want to discuss before you leave today?"

"Um, yeah," he said, shooting a guilty glance at Alice. "It's possible that I may have caused some psychological damage when I . . ." he lowered his voice and glanced at the kid again. "When I threw one of her dresses in the garbage."

Dr. Fitzpatrick's eyebrows raised and he could see her suppressing a smile. "Really? Why don't you tell me more about that?"


Edward left the therapist's office feeling confident. Alice was resilient. She would process her feelings about her father, she would thrive in her new life with Carlisle, and it was likely that she wouldn't even have any lasting damage from the loss of her beloved purple dress. He managed to maintain his good mood through the rest of the afternoon, though anxiety started to creep in the closer they got to the viewing.

He tried to sit Alice down and explain what they were going to see, but she didn't seem to want to make any distinction between "seeing Daddy's body" and "seeing Daddy," and he felt like that didn't bode well for the expectations he was setting. He tried to tell her that Daddy wouldn't be able to hug her or play with her or sing songs to her, but none of that made any sense to her. Alice had always done those things with her dad, and she couldn't comprehend a situation where it wouldn't happen. Edward was pretty sure she thought he didn't know what he was talking about.

So it was with some trepidation that he arrived at the funeral home with Alice in tow. He was a little early, but the woman who opened the door for him let him into the lobby and pointed out the door that led to the viewing room.

"Go on in whenever you're ready," she told him.

Edward nodded and looked down at Alice, who was clutching his hand and looking around at the urns, jewelry, and various other items on display. He figured he'd better try one more time to help her understand what they were about to do. He picked her up so he could look her in the eye.

"Alice, we're going to go in and see Daddy's body now."

"See Daddy?"

He nodded. "But he died. So it will be sad. We'll see him and remember the nice things about him, but he won't really be with us anymore."

Alice was peering intently through the doorway trying to find him. "Daddy!" she called. "A-heo!"

He sighed. After all, wasn't he bringing her here to help her understand? He might as well take her in to see the body.

He headed into the viewing room and looked around. Several rows of padded folding chairs had been set out in rows, leaving an aisle up the middle that led to a glossy brown casket on a stand. Edward tried to ignore the knot of dread in his stomach as he approached the casket. He walked up to the edge and looked inside, bracing himself for Alice's reaction.

The make-up job was . . . iffy. He didn't look exactly like himself. He looked older, emptier, lacking the interest that he had always shown in the people around him. Alice must have noticed because she leaned backward, away from the casket.

"Daddy?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah. That's Daddy's body. It's not really Daddy anymore, though. He died."

"Seepeen?" Alice asked.

"No, kid, he's not sleeping. He can't wake up."

"Yes! Daddy!" Alice leaned over, and Edward eased her down and let her put her hand on Ted's chest. She reeled back hard and clutched at Edward's shirt in distress.

"Daddy!" she said, tears filling her eyes. "A-tup! Daddy!"

Edward heaved a heavy sigh, tears filling his own eyes. "I know. This is so hard. I want him back so much."

Alice wailed, crying for her daddy but making no move to touch him again. Edward rubbed her back and resisted the urge to try to quiet her. She had to get through it, he reminded himself. After a minute he sat down on the nearest chair and hugged her to him, trying to support her in her grief. She cried for a long time while Edward swallowed hard against the ache in his throat.

He hardly noticed when other people started coming in. It surprised him when someone sat next to him and pressed a supportive hand to his back. Then Alice was moving from his lap and he glanced up long enough to see that it was Carlisle beside him before he released her.

And then, with Alice taken care of, he finally gave himself space to acknowledge the crushing weight of the grief that had been following him. He let himself feel the anger, the abandonment, the isolation, the desperation, the loneliness, the utter, suffocating sadness of it all. And for the first time he surrendered to his sorrow and let himself cry without distracting himself from his feelings or censoring his expression of them.