I moved back, and we walked to the chairs and sat, Todd pulling his chair around until we sat face to face, no table between us.
That's when I remembered why I was there. What I'd come to do. That little girl inside me screamed a tantrum shriek of a no. Not now. Not ever. Don't do this. Don't upset him. Don't ruin it.
But I am my mother's daughter, as much as I would like to deny it. I had a goal, and I needed to reach it, even if that might be cruel, might be painful.
No, it was cruel. It would be painful.
"Dad?" I said. "I need to ask you about someone."
"Sure, sweetheart. Who?"
"Greg Kirkman."
Did I want to see his brow furrow, lips purse, that look in his eyes that said he had no idea what I was talking about? Of course I did. But I knew better.
What did I expect to see? Fear. Fear of his secret being discovered.
Instead, he jerked back as if I'd struck him, and then his face flooded with pain and guilt, so raw that I flinched.
I looked up at Gabriel and said, "I can't. I just can't," and waited for the flash of disappointment, the tightening of his face as he told me I had to.
Instead, Gabriel just gave me a piercing look. Then he nodded and walked over and took my hand and said, "All right."
I panicked then, an explosion of panic, because I wanted him to say I had to do this. I needed his push, needed his strength and, yes, the ice-cold resolve I couldn't muster. He squeezed my hand and turned to Todd.
"I'm sorry," Gabriel said to him. Then he laid my hand on Todd's arm and asked, "What happened with Greg Kirkman?"
The prison room vanished, and I was slingshot through memory, lights and images and sounds whizzing past. I landed in the grass, on my back, the sun dancing in front of me. Then the sun became a daisy, petals falling on my face.
"What will my husband be?" It was Todd's voice, rhyming off choices as the petals fell. "Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich-man, poor-man, beggar-man, thief." When the daisy moved, I saw his face, even younger than I was now. "Looks like you get a thief, Eden. That's unfortunate."
He picked another daisy. I reached one chubby hand for the flower.
"Uh!" I said.
"Nope, gotta use your words, sweetheart."
"Uhhh!"
He smiled. "Louder doesn't count. Come on, now. You know the word. It's your favorite."
"Want!"
Another laugh. "And there it is."
"Want. Dada. Want."
He handed me the flower and picked another one, plucking petals onto me. "What will I be? Lady, baby, gypsy, queen." He paused. "Is that how it goes? Your mom's so much better at these."
"Sounds fine to me," a woman's voice said.
Todd sat up fast.
"What a pretty little girl. She has your hair and smile. Is Daddy babysitting today, honey?"
"No." A chill crept into Todd's voice. "I'm taking care of my child."
The woman laughed. "That's what I meant. Oh, she's so sweet." The woman bent beside me, but the sun blocked her face so all I could see was shadow. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Todd didn't seem to know her.