“Katie, do you need help?” I called from the hallway. She didn’t answer right away.
When I peeked into her room, I found her sitting on the bed, gazing at her reflection in the closet mirror. She wore the dress Keith chose last spring—the one she called her “twirl dress.”
“Mom?” she asked. “Does it still count if Dad can’t go with me?”
My chest tightened. I sat beside her, gently tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Of course it counts, honey. Your dad would want you to shine tonight. So that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
My daughter pressed her lips together, thinking. “I want to honor him. Even if it’s just us.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. Keith’s voice echoed in my mind: “I’ll take her to every father-daughter dance, Jill. Every one. I promise.”
He had made that promise, and now it was up to me to keep it.
