Chương 6
“I told Beatrice it was excessive.”
“What did you do for Lily?”
“I cleaned the milk.”
The answer was so inadequate that Camille could not speak.
Henry’s eyes reddened. “I thought it was strictness. I grew up with worse.”
“There it is.”
“I’m not defending her.”
“You just compared Lily’s fear to your childhood so you could call it improvement.”
He looked toward the dark dining room.
Camille remembered Henry teaching Lily to float in a pool, one hand beneath her back, patient as she kicked water into his face. He had brought Camille soup during the flu and once spent three hours helping Paul repair a stuck office door. People were rarely only the worst thing they allowed. That did not make allowance harmless.
“Did she ever restrain Lily before?” Camille asked.
“I saw her hold Lily’s shoulders once.”
“When?”
“June.”
“What happened?”
“Lily wanted to call you. Beatrice said you were busy. Lily became upset.”
“And?”
“Beatrice held her in the chair.”
Camille stood so abruptly the stool legs scraped the floor.
Henry did not move.
“You watched.”
“It lasted seconds.”
“You watched.”
“I told her to stop.”
“After how long?”
He said nothing.
Camille looked at him and understood that the recording had frightened him for a reason beyond Beatrice’s act. It had captured his stillness too.
“Did you come here to help Lily,” she asked, “or to find out what I’m going to do?”
Henry’s mouth trembled at one corner. “Both.”
It was the first honest answer he had given.
Camille picked up her phone.
“Beatrice wants you to withdraw the complaint,” he said quickly. “Not because she doesn’t care. She believes formal proceedings will traumatize Lily.”
“Beatrice does not get to use Lily’s trauma as protection from consequences.”
“She’s willing to attend counseling.”
“Good.”
“She would like to see Lily with supervision.”
“No.”
“Not now, of course. Eventually.”
“No.”
“You can’t know how you’ll feel in a year.”
“I know what I’m deciding tonight.”
Henry looked at her with exhausted irritation. “You are not the only person who loves that child.”
“Love without protection is something else.”
He glanced toward the security camera above the bar.
Camille followed his eyes. “Yes, Henry. This conversation is recorded too.”
He gave a tired, broken laugh. “Of course it is.”
She left him sitting with the untouched water.
The child advocacy center occupied a renovated brick house between a dental office and a small church. Its waiting room had pale blue walls, shelves of toys, and a coffee machine that made everything taste faintly of vanilla. Camille hated the cheerfulness until she saw Lily’s shoulders lower.
Anika Brooks introduced herself wearing navy slacks and flat shoes. She explained that Lily would speak with a trained interviewer in another room while Camille waited. The conversation would be recorded so Lily would not have to repeat herself unnecessarily.
Lily held Camille’s hand. “Can Mom watch?”
“Not while we talk,” Anika said. “She’ll be right here when we’re done.”
“What if I forget?”
“You can say you forgot.”
“What if I don’t know?”
“You can say you don’t know.”
“What if I say it wrong?”
“There isn’t a special way to say it.”
Lily looked at Camille.
Camille knelt, though the position pulled at the knees of her fitted trousers. “You tell what you remember. You don’t have to protect me. You don’t have to protect Aunt Bea. You don’t have to guess.”
“Are you mad?”
“At you? Never for telling the truth.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Camille swallowed.
Lily waited.
“I’m angry about what happened,” Camille said. “And I’m sad I didn’t understand sooner.”
Lily touched Camille’s small gold earring. “You were working.”
The forgiveness in the statement was unbearable because it was not forgiveness. It was repetition. Something Lily had been taught to say.
Anika led her through a door painted with yellow stars.
Camille sat in the waiting room for an hour and eleven minutes. She did not pace. Pacing would have made her feel as if motion were useful. She drank half a paper cup of bad coffee, answered three restaurant emails, deleted the answers, and watched a father across the room repair the wheel of a plastic truck with a strip of tape.
When Lily returned, she carried a sticker of a blue whale.
“Can we get pancakes?” she asked.
It was nearly four in the afternoon.
“Yes.”
Anika asked to speak with Camille privately. Evelyn, who had accompanied them, took Lily to the vending machines.
“We don’t review every detail immediately,” Anika said. “The interview will be evaluated with the rest of the information. I can tell you Lily described repeated physical restraint, isolation as punishment, and statements that made her fear separation from you.”
Camille held the edge of the chair.
“What kind of restraint?”
“Wrist holding, being held in a chair, pressure on her shoulders. She also described being placed alone in a dark pantry for brief periods.”
The room narrowed.
“How long?”
“Her estimate varies. She’s six. We won’t assign precision she can’t provide.”
“I have a pantry at the restaurant.”
“She described one at Beatrice’s apartment.”
Camille pictured the narrow butler’s pantry off Beatrice’s dining room. White shelves, silver trays, a motion-sensor light that went off after three minutes.
“Did she say how many times?”
“More than once.”
“Did she say why?”
Anika paused. “Usually because she cried, asked to call you, refused food, or interrupted an adult conversation.”
Camille’s fingernails pressed into her palm.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
“She said Beatrice sometimes photographed her when she was upset and told her the pictures showed she was difficult.”
Camille stared.
“Do you know of those photographs?”
“No.”
“Your attorney can discuss preservation requests. Don’t contact Beatrice directly.”
May you like
“Is Lily coming home with me?”
“Yes. There is no allegation against you of intentional harm. We do need a written safety plan: no contact with Beatrice, no unsupervised contact with Henry until we understand his role, school pickup restrictions, and follow-up support.”
