Chapter 22 — Every Weekend

Our family, over those six months, had been rebuilt from the ground up, and the strange and beautiful thing was that Maya had done most of the rebuilding simply by existing.

The old bitterness that Arthur and I had carried for nine years had not been argued away or negotiated to a settlement.

It had simply become irrelevant in the light of a shared purpose larger than any of it: the purpose of giving this one small girl the richest, most loving, most fully human life that two devoted men and a family trust could provide.

Arthur came every weekend without fail.