I held Irma’s gaze. “Let me see her now.”
There was a long silence.
Then Armando stepped back. “Come in.”
Renata was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of hot chocolate in front of her. She wore the yellow pajamas with moons on them and one of the hair clips she used only when someone else chose it. Her shoulders were hunched. Both hands were wrapped around the mug as if it was the only stable thing in the room.
“Renny,” I said softly.
She looked up.
She did not run to me.
That was what cracked something open in me.
My daughter looked at me like she was not sure whether I was real, or safe, or allowed to be hers.
I walked slowly to the table and knelt beside her chair.
“Hi, my love.”
I put my arms around her. At first, she stayed stiff. My beautiful, bright, messy little girl stayed stiff in my arms because someone had taken the simple certainty of her mother and made it fragile.
I pulled back just enough to see her face.
Her eyes were swollen. Her lower lip trembled.
“Grandma said you didn’t want me at home anymore,” she whispered.
I felt the words move through me like ice water.
Behind me, Irma made a sound. Armando went still.
I kept my eyes on Renata. “That is not true.”
“She said you were tired of me.”
“No,” I said, and my voice broke despite everything I had done to hold it together. “Never. I can be tired from work. I can be tired from not sleeping. I can be tired from bills and problems and grown-up things. But I am never tired of you.”
She searched my face with a seriousness no child should need.
“You didn’t tell them to bring me here?”
“No. I came home, and you were gone. I called your dad. I called Irma. I came for you as soon as I knew where you were.”
Her arms lifted slowly.
Not all at once.
Carefully.
As if she was testing whether I would stay.
Then she wrapped them around my neck, and I held her so tightly I had to remind myself not to scare her with my own fear.
Irma stood near the sink, one hand pressed to the counter. “They told us you couldn’t handle her.”
I did not look at her. “They lied.”
Armando spoke quietly. “Iván should have answered.”
“Yes,” I said. “He should have.”
Renata did not let go of my hand when I stood. Her fingers were small and damp inside mine.
“I’m taking her with me,” I said.
Irma did not move to block the door.
Armando nodded once. “Keep us informed. Please.”