Melinda sat with James in bed that night, near tears.

“It’s just such a mess, James! She doesn’t want to tell the father. She doesn’t want to stay here. She doesn’t know what she’s doing!”

James’ compassion for his wife mingled with his firm belief in Gab’s capabilities. So, he put an arm around his wife and didn’t say anything.

“James, say something!” she demanded. “We can’t let this happen! We can’t leave this poor girl to fend for herself!”

“Yes, support for Gab is vital,” said James, latching onto the one point in his wife’s comment that he could agree with unreservedly. “But perhaps that support could look a bit different to what we originally imagined. So she doesn’t want to live here; that’s entirely her right. It doesn’t mean we stop being here for her, if and when she needs it.”

“But James!” contested his wife, “I just can’t see how this will work for her. That poor baby…”

“Mel,” James turned to face his wife, “Gab is clever. She’s a problem-solver. She makes things work. I have no doubt that she’ll find a way forward. And maybe it’s more important to support that tenacity than to hold onto what we might think is a good solution.”

Melinda sighed. This was typical of James. He always seemed to dampen her passion and bring her visions down to earth with his pragmatism. Maybe she needed it, she reflected, even if it was frustratingly annoying.

“Have I been too full on?” asked Melinda, disappointed in herself. She wanted to help; she wanted badly to do the right thing.

James knew not to answer her question directly.

“You’re fine, Mel. We’re all figuring this out as we go along. Let’s just give Gab some space. She’ll spread her wings. I know she will.”