On Mother’s Day, a Little Girl Knocked on My Door Holding My Son’s Backpack – She Said, ‘You Were Looking for This, Didn’t You? You Need to Know the Truth’ PART2

“I thought if grown-ups found it, they might throw it away.”

She looked at me with terrified, loyal eyes.

“So I guarded it.”

“His backpack was still under the table.”

***

I held her while she cried into my shoulder, and the unfinished unicorn sat between us like Randy had only stepped out of the room.

When she calmed down, I asked, “Who takes care of you?”

“My grandpa. Grandpa Joe.”

“Do you know his number?”

Her hands shook, so I dialed.

Grandpa Joe answered breathlessly. “Sarah? Is this you, my child?”

“This is Haley. Randy’s mom. Sarah is with me.”

“Oh, Lord. Ma’am, I’m sorry. She left before I woke up.”

“Who takes care of you?”

“She didn’t bother me, Joe,” I said. “She brought my son home.”

He went quiet.

“Please come over. Tomorrow, come to the school with me.”

Sarah looked terrified. “Ms. Bell will be mad.”

I took her hand. “Randy was scared too, but he still told you the truth, honey. Now we tell it for him, okay?”

“Ms. Bell will be mad.”

***

The next morning, I put Randy’s card, the apology letter, and the unfinished unicorn into my son’s backpack.

Then I drove to the school.

The Mother’s Day display was still in the hallway: paper flowers, crooked cards, painted hearts, and one blank space near the middle.

I knew it was Randy’s.

Ms. Bell came out when she saw us. Her face changed when she spotted the backpack.

“Sarah,” she said softly. “Where did you get that?”

I drove to the school.

“Randy gave it to me,” Sarah said, reaching for my hand.

I let her take it.