I WAS ABOUT TO PROPOSE TO THE WOMAN I LOVED—UNTIL MY 6-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER POINTED AT THE POOL AND SCREAMED, “DADDY, DON’T! SHE’S HIDING SOMETHING IN THE WATER!”

Lily sat cross-legged on Rachel's living room rug, brushing the fur of her stuffed fox with a plastic comb.

Daniel joined her.

"Did you hear the people talking on television?" she asked.

"A little."

"They said you did a bad thing."

Lily had learned to detect grown-up moods before she could explain them. Daniel noticed it now in the way she paused at a doorway to listen before coming in, or said she was fine when asked too suddenly. Rachel suggested a child therapist who specialized in frightening experiences, someone Lily could meet without being asked to repeat her story for an audience. Daniel agreed. On the first visit Lily spent most of the hour choosing colored pencils. The therapist didn't rush her. Later Lily told Daniel that the room had a lamp shaped like a moon and that she could decide where to sit. He understood why those small choices mattered. Too many decisions had been taken away from her.

"They're wrong."

"Will the police believe me?"

"They'll listen to you. And if they need more information, they'll ask carefully."

Lily pressed the fox to her chest. "I should have told you sooner."

"You told me when you could."

She thought about that, then said, "Vanessa told me my mom would be disappointed in me."

Daniel felt a sudden, clean anger. His wife Emily had died three years earlier after a fast-moving illness. Lily remembered her in scattered pieces: the smell of lemon soap, songs in the car, bedtime stories.

"Your mom loved you," he said. "Nothing Vanessa says can change that."

"Vanessa took Mom's box."

"Which box?"

"The blue one with the birds. She put it in the garage after I looked at the pictures."

They drove to the house with an officer present. In a cabinet behind paint cans, Daniel found Emily's keepsake box. The photographs were intact. Beneath them lay an envelope marked FOR LILY WHEN SHE'S OLDER.

Inside was a letter from Emily and a small key taped to the last page.