disappeared, I set Owen down gently on the hallway rug, wrapped in a fresh blanket from the linen closet, and opened the door Kate had tried to reach.
Behind the coats and luggage, on the highest shelf where an adult could barely see but where Lily had climbed to stash it, sat an old, beat-up spiral notebook. Its cardboard cover was taped together with yellowed Scotch tape.
I pulled it down and flipped it open.
Inside were dozens of pages filled with childish, jagged handwriting in pencil and colored crayon.
Day 42: Daddy went to New York. Aunt Kate brought her friends over. She locked Owen in the nursery so he wouldn’t make noise. I gave him water through the door crack.
Day 88: I spilled my juice. She cut my hair with kitchen scissors so I would look ugly like my attitude.
Day 114: She told me Daddy doesn’t
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