Chapter 26 - LUCY AT TENFive years passed.
Lucy was ten.
Blonde pigtails gone.
Hair shoulder-length.
Still loved yellow.
Still called Owen Dad.
Still kept Michael’s photograph beside bed.
At school assignment:
Write about a family tradition.
Lucy wrote about summer barbecue.
She mentioned a story:
“When I was five, Grandma threw my sausage to Buddy and everyone got mad.”
Teacher nearly called parents.
Lucy continued:
“Grandma was wrong. Mom was wrong to hit her. Dad was wrong because he didn’t ask what happened. Then they all had to learn stuff.”
Hannah read and laughed.
“Very diplomatic.”
Lucy shrugged.
“It’s true.”
Then final:
“Our tradition now is if something happens, we ask before we pick a side.”
Hannah stopped.
That was story distilled by child.
Owen framed essay.
Patricia asked copy.
Lucy charged five dollars.
Entrepreneur.
Trust inheritance apparently working psychologically.
At ten, Lucy understood adoption more.
She asked Owen:
“Were you scared?”
“Yes.”
“That I’d forget Michael?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Then adults worry too much.”
Correct.
She asked Patricia:
“Why didn’t you want Dad to adopt me?”
Patricia answered age-appropriate but truthful.
“I thought family had to look certain way.”
“And I was afraid changing family meant losing people.”
Lucy:
“Did you think I’d steal Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Then Lucy asked:
“Did you hate Mom?”
Patricia paused.
“No.”
“I resented her.”
“What’s resent?”
“Being angry because someone has something you think should be yours.”
Lucy looked toward Owen.
“You thought Dad was yours?”
Patricia laughed sadly.
“Yes.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes.”
Children.
No romance of control.
Patricia accepted.
At ten, Lucy chose to add Calloway to school jersey.
Not because Patricia.
Because Owen coached.
Reed remained official first surname.
Identity layered.
One day a classmate said:
“You have two dads? That’s impossible.”
Lucy answered:
“One died, one adopted me.”
Then moved on.
No shame.
That was success.
Then Buddy died at age twelve.
Family devastated.
Patricia cried hardest.
They buried ashes under tree in backyard.
Lucy placed toy sausage ornament beside.
Everyone laughed through tears.
Patricia said:
“He started whole family disaster.”
Hannah corrected:
“No.”
“You did.”
Patricia laughed.
“Fair.”
Humor meant truth no longer threatening.
They adopted another Golden Retriever months later.
Lucy named him Biscuit.
Patricia asked:
“No food stealing jokes?”
Lucy:
May you like
“Too soon.”
Family healed enough to joke.
