“Like you fought hedge clippers and barely won,” I said.
She laughed once, then wiped her face with the heel of her hand. “Was it stupid?”
Jonathan had lost his hair in clumps on a pillowcase. Letty had never forgotten it. Neither had I.
I crossed the room, took the scissors from her, and pulled her into my arms. “No,” I whispered. “No, sweetheart. Your dad would be so proud of you. I know I am.”
She cried against my shoulder for a little while, then leaned back. “Can we fix my hair? I look like a founding father.”
Letty had never forgotten it.
***
An hour later, we were at Teresa’s salon, where Letty sat in a cape while Teresa studied the damage and sighed once softly.
Teresa’s husband, Luis, came in halfway through and stopped when he saw the ponytail on the counter.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
Before I could answer, Letty said, “A girl in my class needs a wig.”
He looked at her properly and then smiled at me in the mirror. “Hi, Piper. That’s Jonathan’s girl, all right.”
My daughter sat a little straighter under the cape. “You knew my dad?”
“A girl in my class needs a wig.”
Luis nodded. “Yes, sweetie. I worked with him for eight years.”
She touched the blunt ends of her hair. “He would’ve liked this haircut?”
Teresa snorted. “No decent man would support a bathroom haircut, my girl.”
“Mama,” Letty whined.
“But,” Teresa added, softening, “he would’ve loved the reason for it.”
Luis leaned against the station and looked at Letty. “Your dad couldn’t stand seeing people suffer alone. It drove him crazy.”
“He would’ve loved the reason for it.”
Letty looked down at her hands. “Millie tried to act like she didn’t care, but she did.”
“Of course she did, baby,” I said.
Teresa stayed late. Between fixing my daughter’s hair and matching hair already set aside for pediatric wigs, she managed to finish one by the next morning.
***
Before school, Letty and I picked up the wig.
“Do I look weird, Mom?”
“You look like yourself,” I said. “Just with less maintenance.”
“Of course she did, baby.”
That got a smile out of her.
Then she lifted the box a little. “Do you think Millie will actually wear it?”
“I’m not sure, baby. It might be uncomfortable for her. But even if she chooses not to, she’ll know how brave and kind you are.”
***
Two hours later, Principal Brennan had called.
By the time I reached the school, my palms were damp against the steering wheel.
Mr. Brennan was already outside the office.
“What is this?” I asked. “Who are these people?”
That got a smile out of her.
“They came in together, Piper, all wearing plant jackets and asking for Letty by name,” he said. “My secretary panicked. Then I did.”
“Why is my daughter with them?”
His face shifted. “Because the second they said Jonathan’s name, she asked to stay.”
Then he opened the office door.
What I saw inside nearly folded me in half.
“My secretary panicked. Then I did.”
***
Letty stood by the window with both hands over her mouth. Millie sat beside her, wearing the wig. On her thin face, it looked beautiful.
Her mother stood behind her, crying into a tissue.
And in the middle of the room, on Mr. Brennan’s desk, sat Jonathan’s old yellow hard hat.
His name was still written inside the rim. The glittery purple star Letty had stuck on it when she was six was still there too.
Millie sat beside her, wearing the wig.
Mr. Brennan shut the door behind me. “Piper, before they explain, there’s something else you need to know. The boys who laughed at Millie didn’t just do it once. We pulled one of them from class after Letty brought in the wig. A teacher overheard enough that we started asking questions.”
Jenna’s face hardened. “My daughter has been eating lunch in the nurse’s bathroom for two weeks.”
I looked at Millie. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Letty went white. “I didn’t know it was that long.”
Six men stood around the desk in work jackets and heavy boots, all trying to look less overwhelming than they naturally did.
“I didn’t know it was that long.”
Luis stepped forward first.
“Piper.”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Why is Jonathan’s hat here?”
Another man moved beside him. Marcus, Jonathan’s old supervisor.
He held out an envelope.
“Your husband kept this in his locker,” he said. “He told us if the right day ever came, we’d know. Yesterday Teresa told Luis what Letty did. Luis told us. And we came, because that’s what you do for family.”
He held out an envelope.
I looked at the envelope.
My name was on it in Jonathan’s handwriting.
“For Piper.”
My knees weakened.
Letty looked at me through tears. “Mom, they knew Dad.”
