Chapter 3 - The Box in the Closet
I had never been allowed inside Tasha's bedroom closet.
Not once.
Even when she sent me upstairs to clean, she warned me to stay away from it.
"That's adult property," she always said.
"If you touch anything, you'll regret it."
At nine years old, I believed her.
But standing in the dining room with my mother's photograph against my chest, I suddenly understood something.
Tasha hadn't been protecting her belongings.
She had been hiding mine.
Grandma looked at Jordan.
"What kind of box?"
He swallowed.
"A gray plastic one. It has a red lid."
"Where is it?"
"Behind Mom's winter coats."
Ava wiped her eyes.
"Jordan, don't tell!"
He looked at his little sister.
"Mom said Isaiah's old things were junk."
My chest tightened.
"What old things?"
Jordan glanced toward me.
"I saw pictures. And a little blue box."
I stopped breathing.
"The music box?"
He nodded.
Grandma closed her eyes.
Then she looked toward the stairs.
Tasha was still upstairs.
We could hear drawers opening.
Footsteps moving.
Something heavy scraping across the floor.
Grandma took out her phone and called Dad again.
"Malcolm, Tasha may be moving Danielle's belongings."
Dad sounded alarmed.
"What?"
"Jordan says she's been keeping Isaiah's things in a locked closet."
There was a pause.
Then Dad answered.
"Don't confront her. Get Isaiah out of the house."
Grandma looked at me.
I shook my head.
"But Mommy's things!"
She knelt.
"Sweetheart, listen to me."
I held the photograph tighter.
"If she throws them away, I won't have anything left."
Grandma's eyes filled.
"Oh, baby."
She hugged me.
Then she whispered:
"We are not going to forget your mother. I promise."
Upstairs, something slammed.
Grandma stood.
She called the police nonemergency number to ask for help preserving the documents and handling the situation safely.
She explained that financial records appeared to be missing money and that personal belongings belonging to a child might be removed.
The person on the phone advised her not to enter a locked area or confront anyone.
Grandma agreed.
We gathered my backpack.
The envelope.
The photograph.
And copies of the statements.
Then she led me toward the front door.
But before we reached it, Tasha appeared at the top of the stairs.
She was carrying the gray plastic box.
My heart jumped.
"That's it!"
Tasha stopped.
Her face changed when she saw Grandma holding her phone.
"What are you doing?"
Grandma answered calmly.
"Taking Isaiah home with me."
Tasha looked at the papers in Grandma's hand.
"Give me those."
"No."
"Those are private family records!"
"They concern Isaiah."
Tasha came down two steps.
"You have no right to take my stepson out of this house."
Grandma stood straighter.
"Malcolm has asked me to care for him tonight."
Tasha's expression twisted.
"Malcolm isn't here."
Grandma held up the phone.
"He knows exactly what's happening."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Tasha looked at the box in her arms.
My heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it.
"Please," I whispered.
She looked at me.
"Please what?"
"Can I have Mommy's music box?"
Something moved across her face.
Annoyance.
Then anger.
"Your mother isn't coming back because you have some old toy."
It felt like she had punched me.
My eyes filled immediately.
Grandma stepped forward.
"Enough."
Tasha looked startled.
Grandma's voice was quiet but firm.
"You will not speak to him that way again."
Tasha tried to push past us.
Grandma moved aside rather than block her.
"Where are you taking that box?"
"To storage."
I reached toward it.
"Please don't throw it away."
Tasha pulled it closer.
"Stop whining."
Then a voice came from the doorway.
"Put the box down."
We all turned.
A police officer stood outside beside another officer.
Grandma had left the front door partly open.
The first officer introduced himself as Officer Grant.
He explained that they were responding to a report involving suspected financial exploitation and a dispute over a child's belongings.
Tasha immediately changed her expression.
"Officers, thank goodness."
She pointed toward Grandma.
"My husband's mother is trying to steal property from my home."
Grandma didn't raise her voice.
"The documents concern my grandson's trust. His father has been notified."
Officer Grant listened to both sides.
He asked Tasha to keep the box in place while they clarified ownership and documented the situation.
Tasha looked furious.
But she lowered it onto the hallway table.
I stared at the lid.
My hands trembled.
Officer Grant spoke gently.
"Isaiah, is there something inside that belongs to you?"
I nodded.
"My mommy died. She left me a music box."
His expression softened.
"I'm sorry about your mom."
I swallowed.
"Thank you."
Grandma showed him the letter.
The photograph.
And the statements.
He photographed the documents with permission and made notes for the report.
After speaking with Dad by phone, the officers helped arrange for the box to remain secured until its contents could be properly reviewed.
Tasha protested the entire time.
But Dad insisted the items be preserved.
Grandma took me home.
Jordan and Ava stayed with their mother while Dad arranged for another trusted relative to check on them.
I didn't know what would happen next.
All I knew was that the music box was still inside that house.
And I needed it back.
***
Grandma's home smelled like chicken soup and fresh bread.
She made me dinner.
Found clean pajamas.
And let me sleep in the guest room beside hers.
I placed Mom's photograph on the nightstand.
Then I asked the question that had been hurting all evening.
"Grandma?"
She sat on the edge of the bed.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Did Daddy forget about me?"
Her face changed.
"Oh, Isaiah."
"Because Tasha always says he's too busy."
Grandma took my hand.
"Your father loves you."
I looked down.
"Then why didn't he know?"
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she answered honestly.
"Because sometimes grown-ups trust the wrong people. And sometimes they fail to check things they should."
I swallowed.
"Did I do something wrong?"
She pulled me into her arms.
"No, baby. None of this is your fault."
I started crying.
Grandma held me until my tears stopped.
Then she tucked the blanket around my shoulders.
"You're safe here."
I wanted to believe her.
But just before midnight, I heard her phone ring.
Her bedroom door was slightly open.
I recognized Dad's voice coming through the speaker.
He sounded frightened.
"Mom, I just spoke to the bank."
Grandma sat up.
"What did they say?"
A long silence followed.
Then Dad answered.
"The school money wasn't the only thing she took."
I closed my eyes.
I didn't want to hear more.
But then Grandma asked:
"How much is missing?"
May you like
Dad's answer made her gasp.
"Almost sixty thousand dollars."
