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smile in his words. I turned around to see her enter the kitchen. She stopped dead in her tracks, and her expression was sad, confused. She took a deep breath, and then forced her lips into a smile.
    “ What ’ s this, Jacks? ”
    Dad stuttered with his answer, looking genuinely concerned with Mom ’ s reaction. “ We, uh, got her some real paint supplies. Livvy said the big kids use brushes, so I thought that was a good idea. ” When she didn ’ t answer him, he continued. “ It ’ s not a good idea? ” he said quietly, shooting a quick glance in my direction.
    “ No, it ’ s great, ” Mom said, tension leaving her shoulders. “ Just... what is she wearing? ” She walked quickly in my direction and started to untie the ribbon around my waist, even before giving me a hug. I thought it was because she didn ’ t want to get paint on her clothes.
    “ Your smock. ”
    “ It ’ s not a smock, it ’ s a dress, ” she mumbled quickly, not looking at him, removing the garment from my body. She draped it over one arm and embraced me with the other, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “ Is that Ruby? ” she asked me before clearing her throat. Her voice sounded funny.
    “ Uh-huh. Can you tell? ”
    “ Of course I can tell, Liv. It looks just like her. You did an amazing job. You should paint her dog house behind her. ” She outlined an area around the dog. “ Wouldn ’ t that be cute?
    “ How do I make pink? ” I asked her.
    She looked at my palette, which was smeared with too much paint.
    “ Red and white make pink, ” she taught me. “ Do you want to try that? ”
    “ Yeah, but Daddy said you ’ ll get mad if I get paint on me, ” I explained, cleaning the brush in the dirty water I ’ d been using. “ I don ’ t want you to get mad. ”
    “ It ’ s just paint, sweetie. A little paint never hurt anyone. ” She swallowed hard, then stood up and patted me on the top of my head before walking across the kitchen.
    “ Come here, ” my dad said to her. I turned around to watch their usual, loving exchange. My parents had always been affectionate with one another. There was never any question about how much they loved each other. On this particular occasion, though, my mom didn ’ t kiss Dad back.
    “ I ’ m sorry, ” I heard him whisper.
    “ Does that really look like a smock to you? ” she said in frustration. I had to strain to hear her, but I could feel that something was wrong. I ’ d always been pretty perceptive.
    “ Once I put it on her, no. But Em, it has paint on it, ” he said with a slight laugh as he struggled with the veiled emotions my mother was trying to hide from him. I watched the silent exchange as my adoptive parents spoke only with their eyes. It wouldn ’ t have made such an impact on me had a tear not dropped down each of my mother ’ s cheeks when she blinked.
    “ I ’ m sorry, ” he repeated. “ I didn ’ t know. ”
    “ No, I know, ” she said with a sigh. “ I ’ m sorry. And I love that you did that for her. You ’ re so sweet. ”
    He went in for another kiss. This one was returned, and when they separated, my mom looked back over in my direction, but seemed to look beyond me.
    “ Are you okay, Mommy? ”
    “ Yeah, baby, ” she answered, walking back over to me. “ I ’ m great. Let ’ s get this back on you. Your Grandma Hennigan made you that sweater, and she ’ d kill me if we ruined it. ” She slipped the smock back on my arms and secured it with the ribbon. “ Why don ’ t you finish the dog house, and then we need to get you ready for bed. ‘ Kay? ”
    “‘ Kay. ” After I finished painting the pink dog house, Mom carefully removed my smock, hanging it on the short coat-rack that matched my furniture in my bedroom. She was giving it to me, even though I knew it was more than just some ratty piece of clothing to her.

    “ Livvy? ” Mom calls as she walks downstairs. Quickly, I exit my room to meet her in the media room so she can