“Daddy, what if Mommy wakes up in the box and we’ve buried it?”

“She won’t wake up, honey.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s gone. She’s left her body and gone to heaven.”

“Won’t Mommy ever come back?” I ask, confused and worried.

“No, honey.”

I look at Daddy curiously. “Why not? Doesn’t she want to be with us?”

He makes a strange sound in his throat. It sounds like a sob. Then he takes a deep breath and smiles at me. “She does. More than anything in the world she wanted to be with us, but God wanted her back. So she’s an angel now. She lives in heaven.”

“She does?”

He presses his lips together and nods.

I think about it. “Can we go and visit her?”

His throat moves.

“Can we, Daddy?”

“No, honey, we can’t,” he says finally, and hugs me so tight I can’t even breathe.

“Daddy, you’re choking me,” I gasp.

He lets go of me instantly. “Sorry, honey.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes.” His voice is gentle.

“But I really, really miss Mommy.”

“It is okay to miss Mommy, I’ll miss Mommy too, a lot, but we shouldn’t be sad she’s gone, because she’s in a better place. A much, much better place. Remember how much pain she was in?”

I think of her face, so white it was almost the color of the pillow case. “Yes.”

“Well, she’s not in pain anymore.”

I nod slowly. “That’s good. I didn’t like it when Mommy was in pain.”

“Neither did I,” he says softly.

“Daddy. Can I write a letter to Mommy?”

“Yeah, you can write a letter to Mommy,” he says with a heavy sigh. “But let’s go downstairs first. All our friends are waiting for us.”

When we go downstairs our house is full of people. They stare at me and give me funny looks while muttering and whispering together. I hear snatches of their conversation.

“She’s just six years old. Poor mite.”

“Wonderful woman.”

“It’s for the best. She was suffering, poor woman.”

“So sad,” the women whisper to Daddy. Men clap his back and tell him how sorry they are. People who I’ve never met try to hug me. I don’t want to be hugged by them so I slip away and run out through the back door. I walk along the side of our house and climb up the magnolia tree. My hands and legs are so strong my father says I’m almost like a monkey.

Standing against the back wall of my treehouse, I slide down to the floor and extend my legs to their full length. My white tights are clean and smudge free and my knee-length dress with its velvet bow makes me feel like a princess, but my shoes are hot and they squish my feet. Daddy made me wear them because they are Mommy’s favorite, but what’s the point if she’s gone to heaven and will never be coming back.

Actually, I’ve already started to miss her a lot.

From the corner of my eyes I can see my Barbie sitting on the floor where I left her two days ago. It’s been many days since I changed her clothes or combed her hair. She won’t like it. We both have the same hair color but hers is long and mine is shorter. I reach for my Princess crown and put it on my head. Now my outfit is complete. I turn my head and look at the mirror on the wall that Daddy hung up for me.

My face looks white. I don’t know why, but it feels as if something inside me is broken. I think I just want Mommy to come back. I’m very worried about her ever since I saw her sleeping in the box. I don’t understand how she will get to heaven from inside the box. Will she be all alone? I hope Daddy is wrong. I hope she comes back soon. Tears gather in my eyes and roll down my face. I sniff and wipe them away with the backs of my hands. I want to be brave just in case Mommy is watching from heaven.

“Hi,” I hear from the entrance of my treehouse.

I whip my head around half in fear and half in shock, and spring to my feet, my shiny black shoes clanking on the floor. The intruder has popped his head inside my doorway. Nobody ever comes up here, let alone a dark-haired, hazel-eyed boy! “You can’t come in here. Boys aren’t allowed,” I yell.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he says calmly.

“You don’t have to be sorry. My mom is in a better place. She’s an angel now,” I explain. I don’t expect him to understand. His mommy is probably still on earth.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

I crinkle my nose and squint my eyes at him. Boys have cooties, but he looks pretty clean…

“I brought you a flower,” he says softly.

He brought me a flower, so he might not have cooties. “All right. Just for a minute.”

He pulls himself into the treehouse, bringing the flower into view. “I saw you come up here. My mom said girls like flowers when they’re sad.”

“I’m not sad,” I hiss, sitting back on the floor.

I watch him fill the doorway, then take a few steps forward. “Sometimes you don’t have to cry to be sad,” he says, sitting beside me. He stretches his legs out the same as me. His are much longer than mine.

I take the daisy from him. The flower is as big as my hand. “What’s your name?”

“Cole,” he says.

“I’m Taylor Rose.”

“I know. Your dad works for my dad,” he explains. “I live in the big house at the top of the hill.”

Everyone knows about the house at the top of the hill. The most famous family in town lives in the house.

“Are you famous too?”

Cole turns his face towards me. He has very long eyelashes for a boy. “I’m not famous. I think we’re just rich. At least, I’ve heard people say that we’re rich.”

“Oh,” I say, disappointed. I stare into the face of the flower. I don’t know what it means to be rich, but it would be cool if Cole were famous. I want to be famous. I’ve always wanted to be famous. My bedroom is filled with posters of Brittany Spears and other famous celebrities.

“Do you like the flower?” he asks me with a broad smile. Cole is cute and I want to be his friend.

“It’s really pretty. Thank you.”

“How come I don’t see you at school?”

“I don’t know. I’m in first grade.”

He grins. “I’m not.”

“You play with nerf guns?” Cole asks, looking at my stack of nerf guns. “I thought little girls played with dolls and stuff.”

“I like baby dolls, but Nerf guns are fun. I have a target too, see?” I say, walking to the side of the room and hanging it on the wall.

I don’t think about mommy as we play with the Nerf guns. I’m good at shooting, so I almost beat Cole, but he’s better. We continue to talk until his parents yell for him. He says goodbye. After he leaves I hold the flower in my hands and smell it. It has no scent. I never had a favorite flower before, but I think daisies are my favorite flower now.