Chapter 4
She came down the stairs in her pink pajamas, expecting cartoons and cereal, and stopped dead in the living room when she saw Emily and Nora sleeping on the sofa.
“Dad?” she whispered.
The twins woke.
Emily sat up first. Nora opened her eyes and hid half her face behind the bear.
“Hi,” Emily said shyly.
Ivy stepped back toward Logan.
“Who are they? Why are they in our living room?”
Logan knelt in front of his daughter.
“They’re Emily and Nora. They were cold last night. They needed somewhere safe to sleep.”
Ivy’s eyes filled instantly.
“But you said…” She stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “You promised after Mom died it would just be the two of us.”
“Ivy—”
“You promised.”
Her voice cracked into a scream.
“You lied.”
Before Logan could reach for her, Ivy ran upstairs and slammed her bedroom door so hard the sound echoed through the house.
Nora shrank under the blanket.
“She doesn’t like us,” she whispered.
“She was surprised,” Logan said, though the words sounded thin even to him. “She didn’t expect you.”
He went upstairs and knocked softly.
“Princess, let me explain.”
“Go away.”
“Ivy, they lost their mother. Just like you did. They have nowhere to go.”
Silence.
“It’s temporary,” he said, even though something in him resisted the word.
“I don’t want to share you,” Ivy said through the door. “Mom is already gone. Now are you going to love them more than me?”
Logan pressed his forehead against the wood.
“No. I will never love you less.”
“But now you’ll have other daughters too.”
There it was.
The fear under all the anger.
Not selfishness.
Loss.
Ivy had lost her mother. Now she thought she was losing the only parent left.
Downstairs, Emily and Nora sat on the sofa like children trying to take up less space. Logan made pancakes because he did not know what else to do. The smell filled the kitchen, rich and sweet, bringing back Sunday mornings with Sarah humming at the stove while Ivy clapped from her booster seat.
It hurt.
But for the first time in two years, the hurt came with warmth.
The first days were rough.
Ivy refused to speak to the twins. She ate in silence. She sat in the armchair farthest from the sofa. If Emily laughed, Ivy turned up the television. If Nora moved too close, Ivy took her toys upstairs. She guarded her room like a castle under siege.
Then one morning, Logan found Emily and Nora standing outside Ivy’s bedroom, peeking through the crack of the door.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Emily flinched.
“We just wanted to see her room. It must be pretty.”
Nora hugged her bear.
“We weren’t going in.”
Ivy appeared at the top of the stairs.
Her face turned red.
“What are you doing here?”
“We were just looking,” Emily said quickly.
“You can’t come in.” Ivy stepped in front of the door like a guard. “It’s mine. My room. My toys. My house. My daddy.”
Then she slammed the door again.
Emily stared at the wood.
That old look returned to her face.
The look of a child used to not being wanted.
“We did something wrong,” Nora whispered.
“No,” Logan said. “You didn’t.”
But words were not enough.
That afternoon, he took the twins to the mall.
They walked through the toy store as if entering another planet. Rows of dolls, games, stuffed animals, puzzles, bright boxes stacked like treasure. Emily and Nora moved slowly, touching nothing without permission.
“You can choose something,” Logan said.
Emily looked confused.
“Choose what?”
“Anything you like.”
“But we don’t have money.”
“You don’t need money. I want to buy it for you.”
Nora stared at him.
“Anything?”
May you like
“Anything.”
They chose simple dolls. One with brown hair and a blue dress. One with blonde hair and a pink dress. Nothing expensive. Nothing flashy. Just two soft dolls with gentle faces.
