Page 130 of Trapper Road

“Because you’re kind, and loving, and generous.”

He shakes his head. “So was Dad. He could be all of those things if he wanted to be.”

“If he wanted to be,” I echo. “But that’s not who he was deep down inside.”

“What if you’re just seeing what you want to see because I’m your son?” he asks.

It’s a valid question. Parents are supposed to love and support their children with their whole hearts. We’re hard wired to see the beauty in them first. But that doesn’t mean we don’t also see the flaws.

“I hate your father,” I tell him.

He looks at me, not surprised by my sentiment, but confused as to why I would bring it up now.

“And if I’m being honest,” I continue, “I hate Kevin. And Ireallyhate Willa.”

He frowns. But before he can ask me where I’m going with this, I rest my palm against his cheek. “But you don’t hate them. You still see the humanity in each of them. Melvin Royal never would have gone back into that burning house to rescue Willa. But you did. After everything she did, you still saved her. You’re not a monster, Connor. You’re nothing like Melvin Royal. You’re your own person, and you’re a good person.”

He’s crying now, and does nothing to hide it. “Thanks, Mom.”

* * *

Both Connor and Vee spend another week at the hospital before being transferred to a rehab facility. Connor’s still struggling with his vision and balance, and Vee has to learn to readjust her eating after having a chunk of her intestines removed.

Sam and I continue to spend as much time as possible with them, only retreating to the hotel when visiting hours are over. Lanny does, too, until Vee tells her to get a life and stop moping around her room like some kind of goth ghoul.

Lanny doesn’t take it personally, but she does start to spend more and more time off on her own. The first time she asked if she could go check out Duke’s campus, I told her unequivocally not. Especially not after what happened to Connor and Vee. I gave them space and look what happened.

If I could, I would keep all of my kids in my line of sight for the rest of my life.

Sam’s the one who convinced me to let her go. It was only fair, he argued, after she’d been forced to cut short her visit to Reyne. Grudgingly, I agree, and as the days pass I see a shift in Lanny. Her eyes become brighter, her smile more regular. There’s a vibrancy about her that I rarely saw at home. As much as I love seeing these shifts in my daughter, it breaks my heart a little as well.

I know it’s because of Duke — being surrounded by so many students with such varied interests. She spends a lot of time at the library and says it’s surprising how often she’ll be reading a book on the main floor and a student will stop and engage with her about its contents. It’s obvious how much she loves it, how it feeds her mind and soul.

It becomes clear that this life is what she needs: to break away from a past tied to Melvin Royal, to start over fresh and be her own person.

It would mean her moving away. That thought alone causes my lungs to squeeze tight and panic to beat at my heart. I can’t imagine letting her go. What happens if she needs me and I’m not there?

One afternoon, while we’re sitting around in a common room at the rehab facility, Lanny launches into a story about something funny that happened when she visited the admissions office earlier that day.

Connor grins. “Admissions office, eh? You thinking of applying?”

Her eyes dart to me and then away. “Not really,” she says. “I doubt I could even get in anyway.”

I know the real reason she’s not sure about applying. It’s because of me. She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t have to. Her glance in my direction is enough. Suddenly I have a vision of what my daughter’s life could end up looking like if we keep on this same path: She’ll never go to college; she’ll never leave home; she’ll never explore the world and herself and her interests.

She’ll stagnate, and it will be my fault, because I held on too tight.

I never wanted her to be afraid of the world. I only wanted her to understand its dangers so she could learn to navigate them safely.

Something cracks open inside me, indecision and doubt forcing their way to the surface. I tried loosening my grip and giving my kids more agency, and it almost killed Connor and Vee. How can I be asked to do that again?

But how can I not? The reality is that there will never come a day when there are no threats. My vigilance against the Sicko Patrol was meaningless in the face of Kevin getting ticked off and taking a gun to school. My obsession in constantly checking my kids’ locations was useless against their desire for the smallest hint of freedom.

I tried controlling Connor’s access to information about his father, and it only drove him to look deeper. If I keep trying to hold on so tightly, I will only end up choking them when they need room and space to breathe.

I watch the way Lanny gazes out the window toward campus. I see the wistfulness on her face. How can I watch my little girl want something so desperately and not do everything in my power to make it happen?

I’ve spent so many years trying to keep us safe and alive that I’ve lost sight of the reason why: so that we can live our lives. It’s why we stopped running at Stillhouse Lake — because we needed to find a place where we belonged and where we could put down roots. That’s where we built a home, where we became a family.

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