The drive home was silent until Erin queried, “So I’m not in trouble?”
“Erin, I’m sure you didn’t mean to do it,” Martin responded. “We took you in because we care about you, and some wet pants aren’t going to change that. You could be completely incontinent, and we’d still love you.”
Erin’s good mood had been effectively killed by her accident, but her uncle’s words had some power. They liked her for who she was, even with her flaws, and even if she were to have more flaws. In the back seat of the car, sitting in wet pants, she felt safer than she could ever remember feeling before.