I should have taken Lily home immediately.
Instead, I told myself we only had to survive dinner.
When the turkey was served, Patricia pointed to the empty chair beside Victor.
“Lily, sit there,” she said. “Grandpa Victor has a special story for you after dinner.”
Victor patted the seat, then his knee.
“Come on, sweet pea. I don’t bite.”
Lily stopped moving.
Her face drained of color. Her fingers dug into my sleeve, and her eyes jumped from the chair to Victor’s hand to the hallway behind him.
I knelt beside her. “What is it, bug?”
She pressed her lips to my ear.
“Daddy… if I sit down, my private part will hurt.”
Everything inside me went silent.
The silverware, the television, my mother complaining about the gravy I heard none of it.
I lifted Lily into my arms.
“She’s sitting with me.”
Patricia put down the serving spoon. “Michael, she needs discipline, not coddling.”
Victor leaned back. “Children invent things when adults reward bad behavior.”
I looked at him.
He had spoken too quickly.
Lily buried her face in my neck, trembling whenever his voice crossed the table. I moved to the far end and kept my body between them.
No one asked why she was afraid.
Thomas stared at his plate. Elaine whispered that Lily had always been sensitive. My mother kept defending Victor even though I had not accused him of anything.
“He adores her,” she said.
Victor lifted his wineglass.
“Some people are determined to see danger everywhere.”
His confidence frightened me more than anger would have.
