At the hotel, she stood beneath the shower for a long time.
Then she came out wearing the new shirt, climbed into bed, and placed the rabbit between us.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked.
The question hurt more than Caroline’s threat.
“No.”
“Are you mad at Mom?”
“Yes,” I said, because children deserve truth that does not make them responsible for managing it. “But my feelings are not your job.”
Ella rubbed the rabbit’s bent ear.
“Is Nana going to hate me?”
“You told the truth,” I said. “What adults do with the truth is their responsibility.”
She thought about that.
Then she asked whether doctors really could tell when children lied.
“They can tell when a child needs help,” I said. “That is what happened tonight.”
