Chapter 8
I read Mom's last sentence aloud.
James took the letter and called the investigator. Mom had spoken to Lauren despite knowing about the order. That didn't break it, but her warning mattered.
The investigator asked whether Mom would describe the conversation. She agreed.
That afternoon, the investigator called back. Lauren had told Mom she had gone to Bright Steps because she wanted to know whether Emma was safe. Mom said she had told Lauren to stop contacting anyone about us.
I wanted to believe her. I also remembered how long she'd believed Lauren before she believed me.
Ms. Rivera advised us to keep the letter and continue recording every contact. She said she had asked for the temporary order to remain in place at the review hearing.
“Will Lauren be charged?” I asked.
“The investigator can answer that when the document review is complete. Our immediate concern is keeping your family safe.”
I hung up and found James putting Emma's shoes on.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“For the walk we promised her.”
I looked toward the street.
He didn't rush me. He waited while I took my coat from the hook. We walked around the block with Emma between us.
No one followed. No car slowed beside us.
Emma fell asleep before we got home.
It was a small afternoon. I needed it more than I knew.
Three days later, the investigator asked us to come to the station. She had received records from Bright Steps and Denise Harper, along with the original permission form.
She showed us a copy of an email Lauren had sent Denise. It said I had agreed to let Emma stay with Lauren for several weeks and would confirm it at their meeting.
The email was sent the day after I had told Lauren I didn't want an overnight visit.
The investigator also told us that Lauren had admitted writing my name on the form. She now claimed she believed I had given her verbal permission.
“She said I asked her to sign for me?” I said.
“Yes.”
“I never did.”
“I understand. We have your statement.”
The investigator said the case was being reviewed for charges related to the false documents and statements. She couldn't give us a date for a decision.
I left feeling both lighter and angrier.
Lauren had finally admitted the signature wasn't mine. Yet she was still trying to make the choice sound like something I had made.
Outside, Dad waited by his car. I had asked him to come because I wanted to hear his account without Christmas standing between us.
We sat at a picnic table near the station while James took Emma for a short walk.
“When did you first think Lauren wanted to keep her?” I asked.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“In November. She said you might ask her to take Emma until James got home.”
“He was already due back in December.”
“I knew. I thought she meant a few difficult weeks. Then she began calling Emma's nursery at her apartment ‘our room.’ I asked her about it. She laughed.”
“Why did you let it go?”
“Because she was my daughter,” he said. “Because I thought confronting her would upset your mother. None of those reasons were good enough.”
I watched James turn the stroller at the end of the path.
“You could have warned me.”
“I know.”
Dad's eyes filled.
“I watched her hit Emma. I spent those few seconds waiting for someone else to stop what was happening. I'll regret that for the rest of my life.”
“I need you to do more than regret it.”
“I will.”
He had already given the police what he knew. Now I needed to see what he would do afterward.
At home, a message from Mom waited on my phone.
Lauren called again. I told her I would not discuss Emma. She said she wanted me to ask you to meet her. I said no.
For once, Mom had said no before asking me to do it for her.
I wrote back.
Thank you for telling me.
It was the first message I'd sent her since Christmas.
The following morning, Ms. Rivera called with news. Lauren's attorney had agreed that she would stay away while the investigation continued. The temporary order still stood.
Then Ms. Rivera added, “Your mother has offered to testify about the conversations. She asked me to tell you she will do it whether or not you allow her to see Emma.”
May you like
I held the phone against my ear and looked at my daughter.
For the first time, I thought Mom might be learning how to love her without making a claim on her.
