My driver jumps out of the car, surprised to see me, and that I have company. Familiar voices shout my name. I look over my shoulder to see all four of my cousins running out with my Aunt Anna and Uncle Dave. I forgot they were coming.

The six of them barrel through the reporters, protectively shouting to get back and leave us alone. “Justin, you okay?” Jameson asks me as he grabs my shoulder.

“That was so amazing,” Jocelyn whispers, staring at my daughter. Mystified, she whispers, “Hi.”

“Oh my God, Justin,” Aunt Anna whispers. “Does your mother know?”

Shaking my head, I tell her, “I just found out. Nobody knows. Jason is on his way here.”

“MR. COCKER!” Reporters shout.

Jordan yells, “GIVE IT A REST. GO! GET OUT OF HERE!” To me, he says, “Get in the car. They’re not going to let up.”

“I know. I’ll call you guys later after we get settled.”

My family nods. Aunt Anna grabs me for a quick hug. “So proud of you!” Together they create a wall to protect the three of us from the reporters as my name is shouted alongside questions I force myself to ignore. It pains me to be walking away from this race. I am dying inside, despite how calm I must appear.

“We love you, Justin!” Jocelyn yells through cupped hands as the car pulls away.

My driver takes us first to the nursing home for Claire’s belongings. I speak to the doctors and she has to sign forms that she is willingly coming with me to Atlanta and will not hold them liable if she were to die on the way there. As she signs, I stare at her bony wrists. “Mrs. Walters, you were very brave to come to me today.”

Setting down the ballpoint pen she glances to me and holds my eyes. “When you love someone, they give you the courage.”

When we arrive at the modest apartment Tanny lived in with her daughter, Claire rests in the car, the motor running to keep the air conditioning on. It’s muggy and hot today, as last night’s unexpected warmth indicated it’d be.

Hannah and I go in to collect her clothes. I will have to hire someone to empty out the apartment. I’ll have to contact her landlord, too. Not sure if they’ve been notified about her death. When I asked Claire she said she wasn’t sure, either.

I’m selective about the clothes I tear off hangers and pull from drawers. I’ll be taking her shopping. “Any of these your favorites?”

She points at a Hello Kitty dress and a pair of UGG boots that are fucking adorable. “Good choice,” I smile, grabbing a tote bag for shoes and tossing a pair of sandals and shiny little dress shoes in, too. “You like those?” Hannah nods. “Me too.”

Hannah’s silence abruptly ends when I pick up a doll. “Not that one!”

Glancing over in surprise I hold it up. “You don’t like her?”

Clutching the alien, Hannah wildly shakes her head.

“Okay. Bye doll.” Twisting my torso as I scan the room I spot a stuffed pig and elephant. With quick strides I swoop them up. “How about these?”

“Mr. Piggles,” she whispers.

To the elephant I mutter, “Sorry buddy. She’s the boss,” and toss it onto the bed.

I kneel in front of the short bookshelf and slide out a skinny, children’s book. “How about this?”

“That’s for kids,” she frowns.

“Oh, okay.” Running my fingers over the spines I say, “Tell me when to stop.”

She whispers, “Mommy read me that one.”

“The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis. I read this one, too, Hannah. You liked it?”

“They live in a painting!”

I nod, “Yes, for a little while they did. You must be very smart for her to have read big books like this to you.”

She makes a face like I’m an idiot. “I’m five!”

Chuckling, I mutter, “Right. What was I thinking?”

Now that I’ve stuffed the one suitcase I could find full of everything’s she’s deemed worthy of this voyage, I zip it and throw the tote bag over my shoulder so I can take Hannah’s hand.

All those years I’ve planned.

All the speeches and how well I was doing.

How often I felt I might win.

Everything has changed.

Hannah tugs my hand through the apartment but then lets go, her focus on the kitchen. “What is it?” I ask. She runs to the refrigerator and points at photos too high for her to reach.

Leaving the suitcase behind, I walk over to discover a dozen or more snapshots of Tanny and Hannah. Scanning over them is like watching Hannah growing up. My lips part on a picture of Tanny holding her as a newborn in the delivery room, grinning with sweat-matted hair. Oh fuck, that one kills me. There’s one where Hannah as an infant sleeps in her crib with that pink alien tucked up against her body, only then it was new and very furry. There’s one of Hannah at maybe three, opening Christmas presents with bows stuck to her head. One of her screaming down a slide that Tanny must have taken as she waited for her at the bottom. Another at a festival, their faces are painted with whiskers and glitter. Tanny’s making a funny face while Hannah laughs. One at a beach not long ago because Hannah looks the same age she does today.

My voice is hoarse as I tell the daughter I never had the chance to see grow up, “We’ll take all of these.”

She slowly follows me back to the suitcase where I’ve gone ahead to slide her memories into the flat zipper pocket on the outside. Straightening up I extend my hand. Hannah takes it without hesitation, which blows my mind.

Outside, the driver takes the suitcase and tote bag from me, walking them to the trunk. I help Hannah inside and she climbs in next to her grandmother. When we pull away from the curb, I lower my voice. “Claire, I want to record as many stories about Tanny as you can remember. Audio or video, I don’t care, but we have to do it.”

She’s the only link to Hannah’s mother now. I barely knew Tanny. When Hannah grows up and asks me questions, I’ll have no answers to give her. It would be like Tanny never existed, and that’s not right.

Claire touches my hand and whispers, “Thank you,” turning her grief toward the window.