I pushed the bathroom door open.
And my legs nearly gave out.
Emily was standing beside the bathtub with her eyes tightly closed.
My father was kneeling on the floor in front of her.
For one horrible second, my mind stopped working.
“Dad!”
He jumped.
Emily opened her eyes.
“Mom?”
I rushed into the bathroom and pulled Emily toward me.
“What were you doing?”
My voice was shaking so badly that I could barely get the words out.
My father stared at me.
Then he looked down at the floor.
“Listen to me,” he said quietly.
“Not yet.”
I couldn’t even look at him.
I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around Emily, and carried her out of the bathroom.
“Mommy, you’re hurting me.”
I immediately loosened my arms.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
She looked confused.
“Why are you mad at Grandpa?”
I turned around.
My father was still standing in the bathroom doorway.
He looked more shocked than angry.
“George,” I said, “I asked you what you were doing.”
He swallowed.
“I was playing the game she told you about.”
“What game?”
He didn’t answer.
My heart started pounding.
“Dad, what were you doing while she had her eyes closed?”
He slowly held up his hand.
There was something small between his fingers.
A tiny rubber duck.
I stared at it.
He placed it on the counter.
“She has to guess which duck I’m holding.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“I hide one of these behind my back, and she closes her eyes. Then I make a sound with it. She has to guess which one.”
Emily suddenly smiled.
“The squeaky duck!”
My father nodded.
“That was the game.”
I looked at the bathtub.
There were several little rubber animals floating in the water.
A duck.
A frog.
A turtle.
A whale.
My stomach dropped.
I had spent an entire night imagining the worst.
And now there were six tiny bath toys sitting in front of me.
But something still didn’t feel right.
I looked at Emily.
“Sweetheart, when Grandpa tells you to close your eyes, does he ever touch you somewhere you don’t like?”
She immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“Does he ever ask you to keep a secret from Mommy?”
She hesitated.
“He says it’s our special game.”
My father closed his eyes.
“Emily…”
He looked devastated.
“I told her not to tell you because I wanted it to stay a surprise.”
“A surprise?”
He nodded.
“She’s been trying to guess what I’m going to give her for her birthday.”
Emily suddenly covered her mouth.
“Oh!”
My father smiled sadly.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell her yet.”
I stared at him.
“What were you going to give her?”
He walked to the hallway and picked up a small cardboard box.
Then he handed it to me.
Inside was a tiny gardening set.
A child-sized watering can.
A pair of pink gardening gloves.
And a packet of sunflower seeds.
My father smiled.
“She keeps saying she wants a garden like mine.”
Emily’s face lit up.
“For me?”
He nodded.
“For you.”
She ran over and hugged him.
I stood there frozen.
Relief washed over me so quickly that I almost started crying.
But then my father looked at me.
And his expression changed.
“However,” he said quietly, “you were right about one thing.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He looked toward Emily.
“She should never be told to keep secrets from her parents.”
The room went silent.
“I thought I was making a harmless little game,” he continued. “But I realize now that telling her something is a secret can be dangerous, even when the secret is innocent.”
I felt tears gather in my eyes.
“I was terrified.”
“I know.”
He reached for my hand.
“And I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
Then Emily suddenly tugged on my sleeve.
“Mom?”
“What?”
She pointed at the rubber duck.
“There is one more thing.”
My father looked at her.
“What is it?”
Emily picked up the duck and turned it over.
There was a tiny piece of paper taped underneath it.
I stared at it.
My father stared at it too.
“That wasn’t there before,” he whispered.
I slowly peeled the paper away.
There were four words written on it.
“Ask Grandpa about Tuesday.”
My father went completely pale.
Emily looked from him to me.
“What’s Tuesday?”
My father didn’t answer.
Because suddenly, he wasn’t looking at the note.
He was looking at me.
And for the first time in my life, I saw genuine fear in my father’s eyes.