Chapter 9
David and I renewed our vows.
It was small. In the backyard. Just family — Ethan, Javi, a few close friends. Sofia, the girl whose prom wish we'd granted, came. She was in remission now. Healthy. Happy. She wore a red dress.
Ethan walked me down the aisle. He wore the red dress. Javi was David's best man.
We wrote our own vows. David cried through his. I cried through mine. Ethan read a poem — one Emma had written, when she was fourteen, about love and family and promises.
"Love is not a feeling," Emma had written. "It's a promise you keep, even when it's hard."
After the ceremony, Ethan pulled me aside.
"Mom," he said. "I have something for you."
He handed me a small box. Inside, a necklace. A tiny silver dress — red enamel, bright and beautiful. On the back, engraved: "Emma's Promise."
"Every time you wear it," Ethan said, "you'll remember. She's with us. Always."
I put it on. I touched the tiny red dress. I cried.
"Thank you, baby," I said. "It's perfect."
That night, after everyone left, David and I sat on the porch. The stars were bright. The air was warm.
"Do you ever think," David said, "about what would have happened if Ethan hadn't worn that dress?"
I thought about it. The silence. The distance. The grief that was slowly killing our family.
"We would have lost each other," I said. "Ethan would have carried that promise alone. You and I would have drifted apart. Emma would have been — a memory we didn't talk about. Instead, she's everywhere. In the foundation. In the wishes. In that red dress. She's still with us."
David squeezed my hand. "He saved us, didn't he? Our son. In a red dress. He saved us."
"Yes," I said. "He did."
Inside, Ethan was asleep on the couch. He'd had too much cake. Javi was beside him, both of them snoring. Sofia had gone home to her family, healthy and happy.
I looked at my boys. My husband. My life. And I thought about the girl in the red dress — the one who'd started it all.
May you like
"Goodnight, Emma," I whispered.
And the wind rustled the trees. Like an answer.
