"Exactly," Marcus said. "And that meant we had to test what it was telling us." Emma nodded gravely. "That's what my poster says. Check before you decide." Marcus looked at the uneven lettering she had written herself and felt an unfamiliar warmth rise behind his eyes.
He showered, put on a clean button-down shirt, and shaved carefully even though his hands were tired. Evelyn told him twice that his eyes looked red, and he answered twice that he was fine. The truth was that he was tired enough to fall asleep standing, but tiredness was manageable and promises were not things he wanted his daughter to learn to negotiate away. At eight-twenty they walked toward the elementary school with the science project between them, Emma carrying one end of the cardboard base and Marcus carrying the other.
A father in a tailored coat held the door for them, and Marcus thanked him without comparing their clothes. He had spent too many years measuring his worth by other men's expensive shoes, and he was trying to stop. When Emma led him to her classroom, the teacher, Ms. Harper, smiled at the flowers and showed them where to set up. Marcus found a seat near the front, exactly as he had promised, and placed the bouquet at the edge of the display table so Emma could see it when she turned around.
At nine, with the sun catching the dust above the classroom windows, Emma Reed stood before a dozen classmates and several parents and explained why a light could fail even when a battery still worked. Her voice trembled on the first sentence, but then she found the rhythm of an explanation she understood. Marcus watched her point at the circuit, separate one possibility from another, and demonstrate the connection she had discovered. He had never been prouder of anything with his name on it.
When it was over, Emma looked for him before she looked at the teacher. He raised both thumbs, a gesture he had practiced when she was little and frightened of jumping into a swimming pool. She grinned so widely that her eyes nearly closed. Marcus applauded until his palms hurt, though a few minutes later, when the parents began helping pack up, he had to lean against a bookshelf for a second and fight off the weight of the sleepless night.
Ms. Harper noticed and asked if he was all right. "Night shift," he said with a small smile. "I finish in the morning." She glanced at Emma, who was busy explaining her model to another student.
"She talks about you a lot," Ms. Harper said. "Not what you do for a living. Mostly that you always try to be where you say you'll be."