Chapter 4
I drove to the house at noon.
I needed my things. My childhood photos. Dad’s watch. The diploma he’d framed and hung in the hallway the day I graduated college.
I didn’t care if Mom and Hannah were there. I wasn’t leaving without them.
Mom was on the porch when I pulled up, arms crossed over her chest, her face like thunder. Hannah was right beside her, her lips twisted into a snarl.
“You have some nerve showing up here,” Mom said, before I even got out of the car. “This is private property.”
“Actually,” I said, stepping onto the sidewalk, “according to the temporary restraining order filed this morning, I have every right to enter the property to retrieve my personal belongings. A process server should have been here an hour ago with the papers.”
Mom’s face twitched. She’d clearly thrown the papers away without reading them.
“You’re not coming in,” Hannah said, stepping in front of the door. “This is our house.”
“Move,” I said. “Or I’ll call the police and have you both arrested for violating a court order.”
We stood there, staring each other down, for a long, tense minute.
Then Hannah stepped aside.
I walked past them, into the house.
It smelled the same. Lemon polish and Dad’s old pipe tobacco, even though he hadn’t smoked it in years. The walls were still covered in family photos—most of them of Hannah. Her graduation. Her wedding that I hadn’t been invited to. Her birthday parties.
I walked straight to Dad’s closet.
The safe was in the back, behind his old work boots. I spun the dial to my birthday—0417—and the door clicked open.
The watch was there. Old, scuffed, the leather band worn thin. I slipped it onto my wrist. It was a little big, but it felt like Dad’s hand on my arm.
I grabbed the photo albums from the top shelf, the framed diploma from the hallway, the stack of books Dad had saved for me since I was a kid.
I was carrying the last box out to my car when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“Liv?”
I turned.
Grandma was standing in the kitchen doorway, her hands twisted in her apron. She looked smaller than I remembered, her hair whiter, her eyes red like she’d been crying.
“Grandma,” I said.
She walked over to me, glanced over her shoulder to make sure Mom and Hannah weren’t listening.
“I saw them,” she said, her voice trembling. “The night they made your dad sign that fake will.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“I was in the hospital waiting room,” she said. “I’d brought him some soup. I heard yelling through the door. Hannah was screaming that if he didn’t sign it, she’d never speak to him again. That she’d move across the country and he’d never see his grandkids. Your mom was crying, saying he was going to leave them with nothing, that they’d be out on the street.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Your dad was so tired, Liv. So weak. He could barely hold the pen. He kept saying, ‘Let me talk to Liv first. Let me call Liv.’ But they wouldn’t let him. They took his phone. They stood over him until he signed.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I said. My voice wasn’t angry. Just sad.
She hung her head.
“Your mom is my daughter,” she said. “I was scared. I thought if I spoke up, she’d never let me see any of you again. I’m old. I didn’t want to be alone.”
She reached out, touched my arm.
“But I saw that slap last night,” she said. “I saw how they looked at you. And I thought of my Robert. How he’d turn in his grave if he knew I’d let them treat his little girl like that.”
She looked me in the eye.
“I’ll testify,” she said. “I’ll tell the judge, the jury, anyone who’ll listen. Whatever you need. I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”
I set the box down and hugged her.
She was small and frail, but her arms were strong around me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
From the front porch, we heard Mom scream.
“Mother! What are you doing? Traitor! After everything I’ve done for you!”
Grandma pulled back, wiped her face, and stood up straight.
“Go,” she said to me. “Get your things. I’ll handle her.”
I picked up the box, walked out to my car, and loaded it in.
As I drove away, I looked in the rearview mirror.
Grandma was standing on the porch, facing Mom and Hannah, her back straight. She wasn’t hiding anymore.
May you like
I smiled.
We were going to win this.
