Chương 7
Sabrina looked at her sharply. “What does that mean?”
“Hannah got separated from Brenda at the mall in December.”
Sabrina’s surprise seemed real.
“She wandered off,” Sabrina said after a pause.
“She was seven.”
“Kids wander.”
“Did Carter or Brooklyn?”
“This is exactly what you do. You make everything a comparison.”
“Your mother made it a comparison when she decided which child was worth slowing down for.”
Sabrina’s eyes filled, but her voice remained flat. “You have no idea what Mom has done for this family.”
“Then tell me.”
“She took care of us. She took care of Dad. She took care of Andrew when he couldn’t get his life together after college. She loaned him money. She hosted every holiday. She watched Hannah when you had your miscarriage.”
Jenna flinched at the last word.
Sabrina saw it and kept going.
“She sat in this house for three days while you stayed in bed. She washed your sheets. She took Hannah to school. She did things your own mother didn’t bother to do.”
Jenna felt the porch tilt slightly beneath her, though she knew it had not moved.
“That’s true,” she said.
Sabrina blinked.
“It’s all true,” Jenna continued. “And she still left Hannah.”
“You can’t hold both things.”
“I can.”
Sabrina shook her head as if Jenna had confirmed something ugly.
“That’s the problem with you.”
She put on her sunglasses and walked back to her car.
Jenna closed the door, then stood with her hand on the lock. Her pulse beat visibly at her wrist.
At three, she picked Hannah up from camp. Hannah had made a cardboard rocket covered in glitter and complained that another child had mixed all the marker caps. Jenna listened, asked whether the rocket had a name, and did not mention Sabrina.
That evening, she told Andrew everything.
He became angry at the miscarriage reference.
“She used that?”
“She wasn’t wrong.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?”
“Because Brenda did help me. I loved her for it.”
Andrew sat across from Jenna at the dining table. Hannah’s rocket stood between them, shedding silver glitter onto the wood.
“So what?” he asked.
“So I need to understand that somebody can be kind in one room and unsafe in another.”
“That sounds like something you’ve been trying to teach me.”
“It’s different when I have to believe it too.”
Andrew brushed glitter into a small pile with his finger.
“Do you want to drop the report?”
“No.”
“Do you want contact with her?”
“No.”
“Then what are we arguing about?”
“We’re not.”
He looked almost disappointed, as though he had prepared himself to defend a position.
Jenna reached across the table. “I’m telling you I miss someone I don’t trust.”
Andrew took her hand.
“That I understand,” he said.
The first investigator assigned to the report called on Friday. Her name was Marisol Vega, and she worked with the county’s family services unit. She explained that the referral did not mean the county had found abuse or neglect. It meant a child had reportedly been left without appropriate supervision in a crowded environment and there was concern about a previous incident.
She scheduled separate interviews with Jenna, Andrew, Brenda, Dennis, and Sabrina.
Brenda called Andrew within an hour of receiving the notice. This time he answered.
Jenna listened from the other side of the kitchen.
“How could you do this to me?” Brenda said loudly enough that every word carried.
“I filed a report about what happened to Hannah.”
“They are investigating me.”
“Yes.”
“I am your mother.”
“Yes.”
“I have never hurt a child in my life.”
Andrew looked at Jenna. “You hurt Hannah.”
“That is not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
Brenda’s breathing changed. “I mean I have never intentionally caused harm.”
“You left her.”
“At the chairs.”
“After she tried to follow you.”
“She had been whining for half an hour. You weren’t there.”
“Because you told us you had the kids.”
“I did have them.”
“No. You had Carter and Brooklyn.”
“I had responsibility for all three.”
“Then where was Hannah?”
Brenda began to cry.
Andrew closed his eyes.
Jenna could see the moment the sound reached the part of him trained since childhood to end his mother’s distress. His shoulders shifted. His mouth softened.
Then Hannah entered the kitchen on one foot, holding the wall for balance.
“Can I have applesauce?”
Andrew opened his eyes.
Brenda was still speaking through the phone. “You know I would never—”
“I have to go,” he said.
“Andrew, don’t you dare hang up on me.”
He ended the call.
Hannah looked between them. “Was that Grandma?”
“Yes.”
“Was she crying?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
Andrew knelt in front of her.
“No. Because she is dealing with what she did.”
Hannah absorbed that.
“Can people cry if they’re wrong?”
“All the time.”
Jenna took an applesauce cup from the pantry.
Hannah ate it at the counter while Andrew sat beside her. She peeled the foil lid into one long strip. When she finished, she asked whether the bandage could come off before swimming day at camp.
The family services interview took place the following week. Marisol Vega wore navy pants and a blouse with tiny green leaves. She asked questions in a practical tone and did not react visibly when Jenna described Brenda’s texts.
“Has Brenda ever used physical punishment?” she asked.
“No.”
“Has she ever denied Hannah food, medication, or access to a bathroom?”
“No.”
“Has she ever called Hannah names?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Has she treated Hannah differently from the other grandchildren?”
“Yes.”
“Describe that without conclusions.”
May you like
The instruction was useful. Jenna described the Christmas stockings, separate birthday photos, invitations that listed Carter and Brooklyn by name and referred to Hannah as “and family,” the mall incident, the shoes, and the parade. She also described Brenda’s help after the miscarriage, her regular school pickups during Jenna’s busiest work season, and the casserole left on the porch.
Marisol made notes.
