Chapter 15 - Coming Home Through The Snow
The open front door let the snow fall straight onto the marble. I stood there holding Grandpa's hand and the wind pushed cold air around my ankles. Behind us the entryway was still warm and the pile of coats we'd left on the floor had been pushed to the side, a dark wet shape with the red scarf still on top. My sister held his other hand. Her grip was tight.
The sheriff stood just outside the doorway with his hat dusted white. The CPS woman was beside him on the rug, her bag over her shoulder, watching us without saying anything. It mattered that they were watching. Grandpa had told us to walk on our own, that no one could say we were pulled.
My dad came up behind us. He didn't try to take us back. He put his hand lightly on my sister's shoulder and then hugged her quick, awkward, his suit jacket smelling like the house.
"I'll call you," he said to her. His voice was low and it cracked. "Tomorrow. I will call in the morning, okay?"
She nodded against his shoulder. She didn't cry. I felt her hand squeeze Grandpa's harder.
Inside, by the fireplace, the woman in green hadn't moved from the cake table. The three-tier cake was still there with its red ornaments. She had her hands on the edge of the table like she needed to hold it. She watched us leave but she didn't come to the door. No one asked her to.
Grandpa looked down at me. "Ready?"
I nodded. My boots squeaked on the marble. We stepped over the threshold together. The sheriff stepped back to let us pass and the CPS woman made a small check mark on her clipboard. I heard the snow crunch under our boots and then under Grandpa's shoes. The cold hit my face and I breathed it in. It felt clean.
The driveway was full of fresh snow and Grandpa's old car was running, the exhaust making a cloud. The sheriff walked us to it and opened the back door. The heat was already on inside.
My sister got in first and slid to the far side. I climbed in after her. The red scarf was between us on the seat. Grandpa had folded it after the deputy handed it back, not bunched up like laundry, but folded. My sister put her hand on it.
The sheriff leaned down to the window before Grandpa shut the door. "You folks drive safe on those county roads. I'll be right behind you to the apartment to finish paperwork."
Grandpa nodded. "Thank you."
The CPS woman bent down on my sister's side. "I'll see you both at the apartment in twenty minutes. You did exactly right tonight."
Then the door shut and it was just us and the heater blowing.
Grandpa backed out slow. The mansion got smaller in the rear window. All its lights were on, yellow and warm against the blue snow, and I could still see the open front door and the woman in green standing by the fireplace though I couldn't see her face anymore. The snow was falling harder, coming down sideways in the headlights.
We turned onto the county road. The plow had been through once but a thin layer had already come back. The pines on both sides were heavy with snow and every house we passed had Christmas lights on their porches.
Nobody talked for a minute except the heater. Then Grandpa spoke, his eyes on the road, his voice even.
"Remember what I told her in there," he said. He glanced at us in the rearview. "I said it ends tonight. I meant it ends tonight."
I felt my sister shift next to me. She was looking out the window but she was listening.
"In my house, nobody stays with the dirty coats," Grandpa said. "Nobody sleeps cold. That's the rule. That rule started tonight and it doesn't stop tomorrow."
I held the edge of the red scarf. It was still damp but not soaking anymore. My sister covered my hand with hers.
We drove past the gas station on Route 9 and the diner with its neon sign buzzing. The roads were empty because it was Christmas Eve. Grandpa drove with both hands on the wheel, slow and steady.
His apartment was on the second floor above the hardware store. The stairwell was warm and smelled like old wood. He unlocked the door and the heat came out to meet us.
He took our coats right away. Not tossed. He hung mine on a wooden hanger by the radiator and my sister's next to it, spacing them so the air could get around them. He hung the red scarf on its own hook to dry proper.
The CPS woman and the sheriff came up a few minutes later, stamping snow off. The CPS woman had papers in a folder. She sat at Grandpa's kitchen table and talked while my sister and I sat on the couch with mugs of hot chocolate that Grandpa made, with marshmallows.
"Temporary kinship care starts tonight," she said. She looked at Grandpa, then at us. "You're legally placed with your grandfather as of now. I'm filing the petition first thing in the morning. There's a hearing at the county courthouse at nine a.m. to make it official for the next weeks. Your dad knows. He consented on the record. No one is coming to take you back to the mansion tonight."
Grandpa put his hand on the back of my neck. It was warm.
Later, he led me to the small bedroom. The bed was already made with flannel sheets and a heavy quilt. My sister's cot was right next to it, close enough that I could reach her if I wanted. He helped me into dry pajamas that were too big but soft. My feet were finally warm.
He pulled the quilt up to my chest. The radiator ticked under the window and snow tapped light against the glass.
"You kept your promise," I whispered.
May you like
Grandpa bent down. "I did. And tomorrow we go to court and we keep it again."
My sister lay on her cot facing me. The red scarf was folded on the dresser where we could see it, drying straight. Outside the snow kept falling on the county roads, covering the driveway we had left, covering the marble floor far behind us. I could breathe easy for the first time that night and I let my eyes close.
