Chapter 4
“What information?”
Mom unbuckled her seat belt.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re scared.”
She looked at me.
“I’m angry.”
“At Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this is what he does. He walks into chaos and convinces himself he’s fixing it.”
My phone vibrated again.
Mom had given it back after making me promise not to read comments.
The caller ID said UNKNOWN.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“This is Patricia Carter.”
My mother went completely still.
My grandmother.
I stared at Mom.
She whispered, “Hang up.”
I turned away.
“Grandma?”
The woman on the phone inhaled sharply.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Two words.
And somehow I started crying again.
I hated that.
I didn’t know her.
But her voice sounded fragile.
Older.
Emotional.
“I’ve waited so long to hear you call me that.”
Mom reached for the phone.
I moved away.
“What do you want?”
Grandma paused.
“To see you.”
Mom shook her head.
I continued.
“Why now?”
“Your father called me.”
Of course he did.
“He said he saw you today.”
“Yes.”
“He said Linda never gave you my letters.”
Mom whispered, “Emily, please.”
I looked at her.
“Is that true?”
Grandma answered before Mom could.
“I sent birthday cards every year.”
My chest tightened.
“Every year?”
“Yes.”
“And Christmas cards.”
I looked at Mom.
Her face crumpled slightly.
I hated seeing it.
But I couldn’t stop.
“Mom?”
“They’re in the box.”
My voice shook.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Grandma began crying softly.
“I never stopped loving you.”
Mom finally took the phone from my hand.
“Patricia, this isn’t the time.”
“I’ve waited eleven years.”
“And your son chose today to blow up her life.”
“Daniel told the truth.”
“Daniel told the part that makes him look good.”
“You poisoned Emily against him.”
Mom’s face changed.
“I never spoke badly about him.”
“You didn’t have to. You erased us.”
“You defended him after men came to my home and threatened me in front of my child!”
Grandma went silent.
Mom continued.
“You called me dramatic.”
“I didn’t know how serious it was.”
“I told you.”
“Daniel said they were business associates.”
“They threatened to break his legs!”
My heart pounded.
Grandma whispered, “Linda.”
“You told me a wife stands by her husband.”
“I was wrong.”
Mom froze.
The anger left her face for a second.
Grandma repeated, “I was wrong.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Grandma said something I didn’t expect.
“I should have protected you too.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
She immediately looked away.
“I need to go.”
“Please let me see Emily.”
“That decision is hers.”
I stared at Mom.
She handed me the phone.
Grandma was still there.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“I live in West Chester now.”
“That’s not far.”
“No.”
I could hear the hope in her voice.
“I don’t want to pressure you. I just wanted you to know I’m here.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
“That’s enough for today.”
I almost thanked her.
Then another thought came.
“Why didn’t you come find me?”
Silence.
“You knew where I went to school eventually, didn’t you?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
My anger returned.
“Then why didn’t you come?”
“Your mother made it clear she didn’t want contact.”
“So you listened?”
“I thought forcing myself into your life would make things worse.”
“Dad said he tried.”
“Your father tries many things when he feels guilty.”
The sentence surprised me.
“You don’t believe him?”
“I love my son.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Grandma sighed.
“No. I don’t believe everything Daniel says.”
Mom looked over.
Grandma continued.
“He has changed in many ways. But your father has always had a talent for telling the version of the truth that hurts him least.”
I remembered Mom saying almost the same thing.
My stomach tightened.
“Then why did you defend him?”
“Because he was my son.”
Her voice cracked.
“And sometimes loving someone makes you foolish.”
I looked at Mom.
That sounded familiar too.
Grandma whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Then she ended the call.
For several seconds I stood beside the car without moving.
Mom leaned against the hood.
“You can see her if you want.”
I looked at her.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t be angry?”
“I may feel a lot of things.”
She gave a tired smile.
“But they’re mine to handle.”
I walked toward the house.
Mom followed.
Inside, I went directly to her bedroom.
She didn’t stop me.
Her closet was small.
Uniforms hung beside dresses she rarely wore.
Shoes were lined beneath them.
On the top shelf sat a brown cardboard box.
Mom reached up and lowered it.
Dust covered the lid.
She put it on the bed.
I stared at it.
“Open it.”
She did.
Letters.
Dozens.
Some from Dad.
Some from Grandma.
Birthday cards.
Photographs.
Legal documents.
Receipts.
A photograph of me as a toddler sitting on Dad’s shoulders.
I picked it up.
He looked happy.
Mom looked happy too.
I had forgotten we had ever been a normal family.
“What happened to us?”
Mom sat on the edge of the bed.
“Life.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
She touched the photograph.
“Your father lost his job when you were four.”
“I didn’t know.”
“He didn’t tell anyone for weeks.”
“Not even you?”
“No.”
“He kept leaving every morning?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he go?”
“Bars. Casinos. Betting shops.”
My chest tightened.
“He was ashamed.”
“So he gambled?”
“He thought he could win enough money to replace his salary before I found out.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“He made it worse.”
“Much worse.”
Mom opened a folder.
Bank statements.
Red numbers.
Overdraft fees.
Withdrawals.
Then she handed me a photocopy of a police report.
I read it.
Threats.
Property damage.
Two unidentified men.
Broken apartment window.
I looked at Mom.
“They broke our window?”
“Yes.”
“I remember that.”
“You were five.”
“You told me a baseball hit it.”
Mom nodded.
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because you were five.”
For once, I understood.
I kept reading.
The report mentioned gambling debt.
Mom’s name.
My father’s name.
Then something else.
Minor child present.
My hands trembled.
“I was there.”
“You were asleep.”
I looked up.
“You said they threatened you.”
“They did.”
“What exactly did they say?”
Mom’s lips tightened.
“You don’t need that part.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
She stood.
“Some things aren’t useful just because they’re true.”
I watched her.
For the first time, I realized protection and secrecy were not always the same thing.
Sometimes they overlapped.
Sometimes love made the line impossible to see.
My phone buzzed.
Madison.
I almost ignored it.
Then I opened the message.
I’m outside.
I went to the window.
Her mother’s Mercedes was parked at the curb.
Madison stood beside it.
“What does she want?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know.”
I went downstairs.
Madison was waiting on the porch.
She looked nervous.
“Can we talk?”
I folded my arms.
“If you came to tell me how horrible I am, the internet already handled it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then what?”
She looked at the ground.
“I posted the video.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“I didn’t record it.”
“Who did?”
“Tyler.”
A sophomore who sat near us that day.
“He sent it to me because he thought it was funny.”
“And you posted it.”
Madison nodded.
My eyes filled.
“Why?”
“I was mad at you.”
“For what?”
“You embarrassed Chloe at the assembly.”
I stared at her.
“When I said she laughed at my mom?”
“Yes.”
“So you posted a video that humiliated my mother again?”
“I didn’t think it would blow up!”
“You captioned it.”
“I know.”
“You called me fake.”
“I know.”
“You tagged the school.”
Madison started crying.
“I know!”
I stepped back.
Mom opened the door behind me.
“What’s going on?”
Madison wiped her face.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter.”
Mom looked at me.
I said, “She posted the video.”
Mom’s expression changed.
Madison rushed to explain.
“I deleted it.”
“That doesn’t delete anything,” I said.
“I know.”
“People copied it.”
“I know.”
“Reporters are calling.”
“I know!”
She covered her face.
“I’m sorry.”
I wanted to scream at her.
Then I remembered myself three days earlier.
I’m sorry, Mom.
Did apologies matter if damage was already done?
Yes.
And no.
Both could be true.
Madison lowered her hands.
“There’s something else.”
I looked at her.
“The school board is meeting tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Some parents are angry about the scholarship.”
Mom frowned.
“What?”
Madison looked at her.
“My dad is one of them.”
I knew Madison’s father.
Richard Bell.
Investment banker.
School board member.
He always wore expensive suits and spoke like everyone else was wasting his time.
“Why would he be angry about scholarships?”
Madison swallowed.
“Because he says the school shouldn’t accept money connected to city employees.”
Mom stared at her.
“That makes no sense.”
Madison looked ashamed.
“He says it hurts the school’s image.”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
Mom’s face hardened.
Madison continued.
“And after the video went viral, he started saying the Carter Scholarship has become a distraction.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“He wants the board to return the money.”
Mom went pale.
Twenty students.
Twenty families.
All because some rich man didn’t like where the money came from.
I looked at Madison.
“Why are you telling us?”
She wiped her eyes.
“Because I heard my dad on the phone.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Her breathing changed.
“He said if Linda Carter wants to play hero, he’ll make sure everyone finds out where the scholarship money really came from.”
Mom froze.
I turned toward her.
“What does that mean?”
She didn’t answer.
Madison looked confused.
“Mrs. Carter?”
I stared at my mother.
“Where did the money come from?”
May you like
Mom’s face had gone completely white.
And once again, I knew there was another truth she had been hoping I would never have to hear.
