Chapter 6

Dad sat beside me on the bed while I finished reading Grandpa's letter.

My hands trembled.

The words were gentle.

Simple.

But they felt important.

Grandpa wrote that love should never be used as a weapon.

That family relationships shouldn't require secrecy.

And that he wanted me to have opportunities regardless of what happened between the adults.

Then I reached the final paragraph.

"I established a fund for your education and future independence. Your grandmother and an independent trustee know how it is managed. When you are old enough, they will explain everything."

I looked at Dad.

"What fund?"

He smiled sadly.

"Your grandfather started a trust for you when you were born."

My eyes widened.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Dad took a breath.

"Because we wanted you to grow up without worrying about money."

I looked down.

"But everybody else was worrying about money."

He nodded.

"That's fair."

I stared at the letter.

"Is the fund connected to the house?"

Dad shook his head.

"No. It's separate."

I exhaled.

"Can Calvin touch it?"

"No."

I looked up.

"Can Mom?"

Dad hesitated.

"Not without the trustee's authority. The money is managed for your benefit."

I felt relieved.

Not because I wanted to be rich.

But because something Grandpa left me was safe.

I touched the letter.

Then whispered, "He really thought about me."

Dad smiled.

"Every day."

I began crying.

He pulled me into his arms.

For several minutes, we sat quietly.

Then I asked something I'd been afraid to say.

"Dad, why didn't you protect Grandma when Mom kept saying terrible things about her?"

He closed his eyes.

The question hung between us.

Finally, he answered.

"Because I was afraid of making the arguments worse."

I looked at him.

He continued.

"I thought if I kept the peace, things would eventually improve."

I swallowed.

"But they didn't."

He shook his head.

"No."

His voice broke.

"And I owe you an apology."

I stared at him.

He took my hands.

"I should never have allowed you to feel guilty for loving your grandparents."

Tears rolled down my face.

He continued.

"I should have made sure you could see them without fear."

I nodded.

"I know."

Dad pulled me close.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart."

I hugged him.

And for the first time, I realized adults could admit mistakes without making excuses.

The next morning, Dad took me to breakfast.

Grandma joined us.

So did Uncle Raymond.

We sat at a little diner near the park.

I ordered strawberry pancakes.

Grandma laughed.

"Just like when you were little."

I smiled.

"I still love them."

For a while, we talked about ordinary things.

School.

Books.

My birthday presents.

The art competition I wanted to enter.

Then Grandma asked whether I wanted to visit her house that weekend.

I looked toward Dad.

He smiled.

"If you want to."

My heart jumped.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Really."

I grinned.

"Yes!"

Grandma began crying.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

"I've missed you so much."

I swallowed.

"I missed you too."

Then Uncle Raymond grinned.

"And your cousins are coming."

I laughed.

"All of them?"

"Every noisy one."

For the first time since my birthday, I felt excited about something.

But the legal problems were still there.

That afternoon, Dad met with an attorney named Angela Brooks.

He told me she specialized in property disputes and financial fraud.

Mom attended the meeting too.

I wasn't there.

Dad said the adults needed to handle the details.

I agreed.

But when he returned, he looked exhausted.

I found him in the kitchen.

"How did it go?"

He took a breath.

"We have work to do."

My stomach tightened.

"Is the house safe?"

He nodded slowly.

"For now."

I sat beside him.

"What does that mean?"

He explained that the loan documents were being reviewed.

The lender had been notified that his signature might have been used without permission.

A formal dispute had begun.

And the attorney was checking whether any security interest had been properly created.

I listened carefully.

Then asked, "What about Calvin?"

Dad's expression hardened.

"He'll have to answer questions about the documents."

I swallowed.

"Will he go to jail?"

Dad shook his head.

"I don't know. That's for investigators and the courts to determine."

I nodded.

He looked at me.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to carry this."

I smiled faintly.

"I know."

But I was still scared.

That night, Mom knocked on my bedroom door.

I was sitting on the floor beside Grandpa's memory chest.

She entered slowly.

"Can we talk?"

I hesitated.

Then nodded.

She sat on the edge of the bed.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she looked at the photographs.

"Samuel loved you."

I nodded.

"I know."

Mom swallowed.

"He loved Marcus too."

I waited.

She continued.

"I think he always believed I wasn't good enough for this family."

I looked at her.

"Did he say that?"

She hesitated.

"No."

I frowned.

"Then why did you think it?"

Mom looked down.

"Because he questioned my decisions."

I took a breath.

"Maybe he was worried."

She began crying.

I didn't know what to do.

Part of me wanted to hug her.

Another part still remembered the invitations scattered across the floor.

Mom wiped her cheeks.

"Maya, I never meant to hurt you."

I looked at her.

"But you did."

She nodded.

"I know."

I swallowed.

"Every time you told Grandma not to call, it hurt."

Tears filled her eyes.

"And when you said Uncle Raymond wasn't welcome, I felt like I had to choose between you."

Mom covered her mouth.

I continued.

"I love you."

My voice broke.

"But I love them too."

She began crying harder.

I waited.

Then she whispered, "I'm sorry."

I looked down.

For the first time, she wasn't blaming Grandma.

She wasn't blaming Dad.

She wasn't blaming me.

She was simply apologizing.

I felt something loosen inside my chest.

But I wasn't ready to pretend everything was fixed.

I looked at her.

"Will you let me see them?"

Mom hesitated.

Then nodded.

"Yes."

I swallowed.

"Even if you're upset?"

She closed her eyes.

Then whispered, "Yes."

I wanted to believe her.

But words were easy.

I'd heard promises before.

I needed to see what happened next.

Mom stood.

Then paused at the door.

"Maya?"

I looked up.

"Yes?"

Her voice trembled.

"Calvin told me today that he's leaving Atlanta."

My stomach tightened.

"What?"

She nodded.

"He says he needs time away."

I stared at her.

"Is he running from the loan problem?"

Mom looked frightened.

"I don't know."

Then she whispered something that made my chest tighten.

"He told me there are documents your father hasn't found yet."

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