We had practiced what she wanted to say, but I avoided giving her a script.

Her relationship with her father belonged to her, even if the adults and court were responsible for setting safe boundaries.

When she came out, her face was pale.

“Do you want to talk?” I asked.

“Not in the car.”

So we drove home with the radio on low.

Ruth made hot chocolate, and Sadie sat by the window until she was ready.

“He said I look taller,” she told me.