Chapter 9
The day I learned Derek would have to answer for what he'd done, I was sitting in Daddy's kitchen eating waffles.
I had syrup on my fingers.
My hair was still messy.
And I was wearing my favorite purple pajamas.
Daddy's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Then stepped into the hallway.
I heard him say Patricia's name.
I stopped chewing.
Whenever Patricia called, it usually meant something important.
I tried not to listen.
But I couldn't help worrying.
After a few minutes, Daddy returned.
His expression was serious.
I put down my fork.
"Is Grandma okay?"
He nodded immediately.
"Yes, princess."
I exhaled.
Then asked, "What's wrong?"
Daddy sat beside me.
"The legal case is moving forward."
My stomach tightened.
"About Derek?"
He nodded.
I looked down.
I didn't know what to feel.
Part of me wanted him punished.
Part of me felt sad.
And another part was still scared.
Daddy seemed to understand.
"You don't have to feel any particular way."
I looked up.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"Really."
I swallowed.
"Will he go to jail?"
Daddy took a breath.
"That's something the court will decide based on the charges and evidence."
I nodded.
Then he continued.
"What's important is that the people handling the case are taking what happened seriously."
I felt a little relief.
Over the following weeks, the grown-ups attended meetings and court proceedings.
Grandma gave her statement.
Mom explained what Derek had told her about the house.
Daddy provided information about my phone call.
And the police reviewed the evidence from the day of the incident.
The financial investigation continued separately.
The disputed property financing had been stopped.
Grandma's house remained hers.
And the documents Derek had submitted were examined carefully.
I didn't understand all the details.
But I understood the important part.
He hadn't succeeded.
Grandma still had her home.
Mom was no longer living with him.
And I was safe.
Eventually, Daddy explained that Derek had admitted responsibility for some of the harmful conduct.
The court imposed consequences.
There were restrictions on his contact with us.
He was also held accountable for his role in the financial misconduct established through the investigation.
Robert faced separate legal consequences based on his own involvement.
The grown-ups didn't tell me every detail.
They said I didn't need to carry all of that.
At first, I wanted to know everything.
Then I realized something.
Knowing every legal word wouldn't make me feel safer.
What made me feel safer was seeing Daddy at the school gate.
Hearing Grandma laugh.
And knowing Mom would listen when I said something was wrong.
That mattered more.
One afternoon, Daddy asked whether I wanted to visit Grandma.
I nodded immediately.
We drove to her house.
The garden looked beautiful.
Flowers lined the walkway.
The grass was freshly cut.
And the front door had been painted bright blue.
I stopped.
"Grandma changed the door!"
Daddy laughed.
"She did."
I stared at it.
"Why blue?"
He smiled.
"Ask her."
Grandma opened the door before I could knock.
"MAYA!"
I ran toward her.
She hugged me tightly.
Then I pointed toward the door.
"Why is it blue?"
She grinned.
"Because I wanted something new."
I smiled.
"I like it."
She laughed.
"Good."
We went inside.
The house smelled like cinnamon.
Grandma had baked apple pie.
She'd also put fresh flowers beside the staircase.
For a moment, I stared at that spot.
The place where Derek had grabbed her.
The place where my backpack had fallen.
The place where everything changed.
Grandma noticed.
She took my hand.
"Want to sit outside?"
I thought about it.
Then shook my head.
"No."
She looked surprised.
I smiled.
"I want to stay here."
Her eyes filled.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
We sat in the living room.
Grandma brought pie.
Daddy made tea.
And I told them about school.
My math test.
My new friend.
The drawing competition.
For almost an hour, we talked about ordinary things.
It felt wonderful.
Then Grandma asked whether she could show me something.
I nodded.
She brought a small photo album.
Inside were pictures of Mom when she was little.
Daddy as a teenager.
Uncle Raymond with enormous glasses.
And Grandma holding me as a baby.
I laughed.
"That's me?"
She nodded.
"You were tiny."
I grinned.
"Look at my hair!"
Grandma laughed.
"You had the sweetest little curls."
We turned more pages.
Then I saw a photograph of Grandma and Grandpa.
He'd died before I was born.
Grandma smiled sadly.
"He would've loved you."
I looked at the picture.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"Very much."
I touched the page.
"Was he nice?"
Grandma smiled.
"He was."
Then she said something important.
"He wasn't perfect. Nobody is."
I nodded.
"But he knew that loving someone meant treating them with respect."
I thought about Derek.
Then asked, "Is that why you didn't like when he yelled?"
Grandma's eyes filled.
"Yes, sweetheart."
I looked down.
"Sometimes I thought yelling was normal."
Grandma took my hand.
"Families can disagree without frightening each other."
I thought about Mom and Daddy.
They sometimes disagreed.
But lately, they talked quietly.
They listened.
They made plans.
And when I asked questions, they answered.
I smiled.
"I think I understand."
Grandma hugged me.
That evening, Mom joined us for dinner.
She looked happier than she had in months.
She'd moved into a small apartment near her hospital.
Daddy and Mom had been working with the court and family professionals to create parenting arrangements that kept me safe and supported my relationship with both parents.
I still spent most nights with Daddy.
But I was beginning to have more regular, comfortable time with Mom.
And I liked that.
At dinner, Mom asked about my drawing competition.
I showed her my picture.
It was a garden.
A blue door.
Three people holding hands.
She smiled.
"That's beautiful."
I grinned.
"Thank you."
Daddy looked at it.
"Where am I?"
I laughed.
"You're the tall one."
He pretended to be offended.
"Only tall?"
I giggled.
"And handsome."
Everyone laughed.
Then Mom looked toward Grandma.
Her eyes filled.
"Mom, I'm sorry."
The room became quiet.
Grandma reached for her hand.
"Angela."
Mom began crying.
"I should've listened sooner."
Grandma nodded slowly.
"Yes."
I watched them.
Mom swallowed.
"I let Derek convince me you were interfering."
Grandma squeezed her hand.
"I know."
Mom looked down.
"And I let him convince me Maya was exaggerating."
My stomach tightened.
Grandma's eyes filled.
Mom looked toward me.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
I didn't know what to say.
Then I remembered what Mrs. Brooks had taught me.
I could tell the truth about my feelings.
I didn't have to make everyone comfortable.
I took a breath.
"It hurt when you didn't believe me."
Mom began crying harder.
"I know."
I looked down.
"But I love you."
She reached for me.
"I love you too."
We hugged.
And for the first time, I felt like Mom understood that saying sorry wasn't the same as making everything better.
She had to keep listening.
Keep showing up.
Keep protecting me.
And she was doing that.
After dinner, Daddy drove me home.
The sky was pink.
The streets were quiet.
I leaned against the car window.
Then whispered, "Daddy?"
"Yes, princess?"
"Do you think people can change?"
He thought for a moment.
"Yes."
I looked up.
"Really?"
He nodded.
"But change takes time and action."
I smiled.
"Like Mommy?"
Daddy glanced toward me.
"Yes. She's working on making better choices."
I thought about that.
Then asked, "Can I still love her?"
His voice softened.
"Always."
I smiled.
Then looked out the window again.
For the first time in a long time, my family didn't feel like a problem I had to solve.
It felt like people who were learning.
Healing.
And trying.
When we reached home, Daddy opened my door.
I climbed out.
Then took his hand.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for coming when I called."
His eyes filled.
He knelt beside me.
"Always, Maya."
May you like
I hugged him.
And this time, when he said always, I believed him completely.
