Chương 12
“Walking.”
“At night?”
“Yes.”
“Were you scared?”
“No.”
Ethan waited.
Lily sighed. “Sometimes.”
“I was.”
“I know.”
“I thought nobody would find me.”
“I found you.”
“You almost didn’t.”
She looked at him.
He touched the edge of the blanket.
“I saw you before I fell.”
“Where?”
“Near the monument. You were digging in a trash can.”
“I was looking for bottles.”
“I thought you were stealing.”
“From garbage?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You’re not smart.”
“I know.”
The admission disarmed her.
Ethan continued, “I walked away because I thought you might take my phone.”
“You dropped your phone.”
“After I fell.”
“I could’ve taken it.”
“But you called Dad.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lily looked toward the door. Daniel stood beyond the glass, his back turned to give them privacy he could not truly provide.
“Because it said emergency.”
“No. Why did you stay?”
She touched the repaired seam on the coat.
“My mom didn’t like leaving people alone.”
Ethan waited, but she offered nothing else.
“My mom used to sing when she was scared,” he said.
“Was she good?”
“No.”
Daniel turned slightly in the hall.
Ethan smiled. “Dad said she was.”
“She wasn’t,” Daniel said through the door.
Ethan’s smile widened.
Lily looked between them. Grief lived differently in rich rooms, but it still left empty chairs.
When Daniel returned, he carried no gift.
He sat across from Lily.
“I owe you an apology.”
She stiffened.
“For what part?”
“For making promises and plans about your life before asking what you wanted.”
“That’s a lot of parts.”
“Yes.”
Ruth lowered her magazine but did not look up.
Daniel said, “I also used your story in my press statement without your permission.”
“You didn’t say my name.”
“I described what happened to you.”
“People already knew.”
“That doesn’t make it mine.”
Lily studied him.
“Did your therapist tell you that?”
“No. Your lawyer did.”
Helen, sitting near the door, raised one finger in acknowledgment.
Daniel continued, “I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“I do want to ask one question.”
“What?”
“What help would not feel like being owned?”
The room became quiet.
Lily had prepared for offers. She had not prepared for the shape of the question.
“I want Ruth,” she said.
Daniel looked at Ruth.
Ruth closed the magazine.
Lily continued quickly. “Not forever. I don’t know. But don’t put me in a building. Don’t move me because reporters find stuff. Make them move.”
Daniel glanced at Helen.
Helen said, “The court decides placement. Mr. Mercer has no authority.”
“He has authority everywhere,” Lily said.
Daniel shook his head. “Not where it would matter.”
“Then use what you have.”
“For what?”
“Security that doesn’t stand in the kitchen. A car when we need court. Fix Ruth’s door camera. Don’t buy the house.”
Ruth said, “Especially do not buy the house.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“Those are practical,” he said.
“And no papers where I can’t read them.”
“Agreed.”
“You can’t agree. Helen agrees.”
Daniel looked at Helen.
Helen said, “We can structure limited, court-approved support through an independent child advocacy fund. No direct payments to the foster parent, no control over placement, no conditions.”
Lily frowned. “Did you already plan that?”
“I considered it.”
“Before asking me?”
“I’m a lawyer. We consider problems before people finish creating them.”
Ruth snorted.
Lily said, “And help find Dee.”
Elaine, who had remained quiet near the wall, asked, “Who is Dee?”
“I told Priya.”
“We haven’t located her.”
“Because you look in computers.”
“Where should we look?”
“West side of the bus terminal after ten. Sometimes the church steps on Forty-First. She wears a red scarf even when it’s warm.”
Daniel said, “Marcus can coordinate with outreach workers.”
Lily pointed at him. “Not security guys scaring people.”
“Outreach workers,” Daniel repeated.
“And if you find her, don’t bring cameras.”
“No cameras.”
She leaned back.
The rules did not make him safe. They made him more visible, which was different.
Marcus found Dee three nights later through a street outreach nurse.
Her name was Denise Walton. She was nineteen, not “maybe” eighteen, and had aged out of foster care six months earlier. She had been sleeping in transit stations and occasionally at a women’s drop-in center. She knew Lily from the weeks after Jenna died.
Denise had kept Lily hidden because she believed child welfare would return her to Greenridge.
When Elaine brought Denise to the respite apartment, Lily ran to her.
She stopped before touching her.
Dee looked thinner than Lily remembered. Her red scarf was wrapped twice around her neck. One lens of her glasses was held in place with tape.
“You got famous,” Dee said.
“You got found.”
“Rude.”
“You disappeared.”
“My phone got stolen.”
“That was months ago.”
“I’ve been busy failing at adulthood.”
Lily’s anger cracked.
She threw her arms around Dee.
Dee held her tightly, then looked over Lily’s shoulder at the adults.
“I’m not kidnapping her,” she said.
Elaine replied, “Good opening statement.”
Ruth made tea.
Milo showed Dee every dinosaur in the apartment.
The reunion did not solve placement. Denise had no housing, limited income, and no legal relationship to Lily. She could not take custody. She became an approved contact after background checks, interviews, and three weeks of bureaucratic delays.
During one interview, Denise admitted she had once shoplifted food with Lily present.
Elaine documented it.
Lily screamed at her for telling the truth.
“You ruined it,” Lily said in the hallway afterward.
Dee crossed her arms. “You want me to lie to the people deciding if I can see you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not a plan.”
“It works for everybody else.”
“Not us.”
“You left me.”
Dee’s face changed.
“I looked for you.”
“Not enough.”
“I was sleeping in a stairwell. I got arrested for trespassing. My bag was stolen. I had your picture and your mom’s shelter papers in it.”
“You always have reasons.”
“Because things happen, Lily.”
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“Mom promised too.”
May you like
The sentence struck both of them.
Dee looked away.
