“Nope.”
“I don’t wanna disappear, Daddy.”
He chuckled. “We don’t want you to, either.”
“But why do people?” she asked. “Why does anyone disappear? Why don’t we find them?”
“They’re hidden,” he said. “Sometimes it’s forever, but sometimes, after a few years, someone finally sees them and makes it their mission to save them.”
“Like Mama!” she declared, her face lighting up as she put together the pieces. “Grammy Maura saved Mama, right? That’s what you say!”
“Right,” he said. “And before that, your grandfather saved your grandmother.”
Her bright expression dulled a bit. “But then they disappeared again.”
“They died,” he said. “That’s different. We know where they are.”
“Where?”
He sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t know. Heaven, I guess? But they’re still with us, too. That’s what I meant. We carry them around in our hearts.”
“Are they with Grammy Miranda?”
“Yes. They’re all together up in Heaven, doing whatever the fuck people do there.”
Maura’s eyes widened as her mouth formed an ‘o’ in shock. “You owe money for the swear jar! Four quarters!”
His brow furrowed. “How do you figure?”
“You just said a swear! And outside you said two swears! Four quarters!”
“Bullshit,” he said. “That’s only three.”
Maura smiled, whispering, “That was four, Daddy.”
He grabbed her when he realized she had tricked him, tickling her sides. Giggles erupted from her, filling the kitchen with the sound of carefree, childish laughter. She grasped at his hands, kicking her small feet, and nearly nailed him in the crotch. He clutched her tightly, pulling her off the counter and swinging her around in a circle before setting her on her feet.
Taking her small hand in his, he led her outside and pulled her over toward the giant tree at the corner of the house. “Your mother used to climb this tree, you know.”
Her eyes widened. “No way!”
“Yep,” he said. “She climbed it like a champ.”
He picked Maura up, pushing her toward the tree. She grasped the closest branch and pulled herself up, wiggling out of his arms. She climbed up onto it, fearlessly scaling it, and sat down against the thick trunk a few branches away. Her dad stood just below her, watching and waiting, but giving her enough space to explore on her own.
Fireflies flickered in the yard as the sky darkened. She reached out and caught one of the bugs, giggling.
“Daddy, maybe it is the same,” she said, letting the bug go. “Maybe the people who disappear are just like Grammy Maura and Grammy Miranda and Papa Vincent. If I disappeared, I’d still be in your heart like them, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s the same.”
“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “They’re gone, and I know that. I know they’re never coming back. But your place is right here with your mother and me. Don’t you ever forget that. If you disappeared, I’d tear the fucking world apart until I found you again.”
Maura stared down at him inquisitively, pondering his words. She seemed satisfied after a moment and started to climb again, peering down at him after settling on another branch.
“Five now, Daddy,” she said. “That was five swears.”