Chapter 5 - My Mother Chose Her Side
I thought I had misunderstood him.
I actually waited for someone to correct the sentence.
Nobody did.
I looked at my mother.
“You told police James assaulted Lauren?”
Mom’s lips trembled.
“It wasn’t like that.”
Deputy Harris raised a hand.
“Ma’am, please don’t discuss your statement with other witnesses right now.”
James stayed completely still.
That scared me more than if he had yelled.
He had spent years learning what anger cost when other people were counting on him to remain clearheaded.
He looked at Harris.
“Am I being detained?”
“Not at this time.”
“Then I’m taking my wife and daughter for medical evaluation.”
Harris nodded.
“That’s reasonable. We may need to follow up.”
Mom stepped toward me.
“Please don’t go like this.”
I stared at her.
“How should I go?”
“She panicked.”
“Who?”
“Lauren.”
“No. You.”
Mom flinched.
“You lied to the police.”
“I said James moved toward her aggressively.”
“That isn’t assault.”
“She said he grabbed her.”
“And you backed her.”
Mom started crying.
“I was trying to keep this from becoming a criminal case.”
James gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“So you made a false criminal accusation against me?”
“It was supposed to scare everyone into cooling down.”
He nodded slowly.
“Congratulations. It worked.”
She frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“My wife and daughter will never spend another night in a house where you think lying to police is conflict resolution.”
Mom’s face collapsed.
Dad did not defend her.
That told me everything.
I packed Emma’s diaper bag with hands that felt numb.
As we stepped onto the porch, Dad followed.
“Claire.”
I turned.
He glanced back through the doorway.
“I need to show you something.”
“Not tonight.”
“It has to be tonight.”
James watched him carefully.
Dad pulled a folded receipt from his pocket and wrote an address on the back.
“Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. Come without Susan.”
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because I found out about the loan three weeks ago.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“Not all of it.”
“What does that mean?”
He glanced toward the window.
Mom was watching us from inside.
Dad lowered his voice.
“The papers you saw tonight are not the first set.”
James stepped closer.
“What happened to the first set?”
Dad looked at me.
“They were already signed.”
My skin went cold.
“I never signed anything.”
“I know.”
“Dad—”
“Eight o’clock.”
Then he walked back inside.
James and I stood on the porch in the freezing November air.
Emma slept between us.
I looked down at the address Dad had written.
It wasn’t a restaurant.
It wasn’t a lawyer’s office.
It was a bank.
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