“I was afraid.”
“I know.”
“I thought if I wanted something, it meant I was forgetting Mom.”
Gideon sat beside her.
“You don't forget someone by being happy.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Really?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Your mother would want you to live.”
Sophie nodded.
She looked toward the shelves.
“Do you think she would be proud?”
Gideon smiled.
“She already was.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I knew her.”
Sophie laughed.
“That's cheating.”
“Maybe.”
She leaned against him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me laugh again.”
Gideon looked away.
His eyes were wet.
“You did that yourself.”
Years later, Sophie was twenty-one.
She was studying to become a pediatric nurse.
Gideon was older.
His beard had turned almost completely white.
His motorcycle had more scratches.
His knees hurt.
But he still rode.
One afternoon, Sophie visited him.
She was carrying a box.
“What is that?”
She smiled.
“Something for you.”
Gideon opened it.
Inside was a princess doll.
Cinderella.
The same design.
The same blue dress.
The same smile.
He stared at it.
“Where did you find this?”
Sophie laughed.
“You bought this one for me.”
“I know.”
“I kept it.”
“So why are you giving it back?”
She smiled.
“Because I want you to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“That the dolls were never the important part.”
Gideon looked at her.
She continued.
“You thought you were buying me princesses.”
“You wanted them.”
“I did.”
“But?”
Sophie smiled.
“You bought me time.”
Gideon didn't understand.
She explained.
“You gave me something to look forward to.”
She held the doll.
“When I was grieving, I needed something beautiful.”
Gideon's eyes filled.
“You gave me that.”
She hugged him.
“You saved me.”
Gideon shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He pulled back.
“You saved yourself.”
Sophie smiled.
“Maybe.”
Then she placed the doll in his hands.
“Keep it.”