Chapter 4
The shoebox sat in the middle of Grandpa Charles's kitchen table. We hadn't touched it since we got back from the house that afternoon.
The lamp over the table made a warm yellow circle. Outside the kitchen window it was dark already and rain tapped against the glass. Grace had her legs tucked up on the chair and Lily was picking at the edge of the tablecloth. The box was taped shut with clear packing tape that Mom must have put there. I could see my name on top in her handwriting.
Grandpa didn't reach for it. He looked at me.
"You decide how we do this," he said. His hands were flat on the table.
I stared at the three things inside once I cut the tape with the kitchen scissors. The notebook was on top, a black-and-white composition book like the ones from Target. Under it was Mom's old phone with a cracked screen protector and a little black USB drive taped to it. An envelope was at the bottom, sealed, with Grandpa's name written in blue ink.
My heart was beating so loud I thought they could hear it.
"The notebook first," I said. My voice was quiet. "I want to read it first."
Grandpa nodded. Lily leaned closer.
I opened the composition book. The first page was dated August 12th, last year. Mom's handwriting was messy but I knew it right away, the way she looped her y's.
I started reading out loud. My hands shook a little.
August 12 - Arthur said we couldn't afford the specialist. He moved money from my medical account to pay for his car. Told me to wait until open enrollment.
I stopped and swallowed. Grandpa's jaw tightened but he didn't say anything. Grace looked down at her hands.
I turned the page.
September 3 - Missed chemo consult. Arthur said he had a work dinner. He didn't come home until midnight. I took an Uber. Charles offered to drive but I didn't want to worry him yet.
October 19 - I've started hiding things. If something happens to me, I do not want the girls in foster care. I want Charles to have them. He is the only one who will keep them together. Arthur has said he wants a fresh start with his fiancée. He has said the girls are too much.
Lily made a small sound. I kept reading because if I stopped I wouldn't start again.
November 7 - Arthur told Sophie to stop asking about my medicine costs. Told me the girls will need to be tough. He took my checkbook.
January 14 - This is my plan. Notebook for truth, recordings for proof, letter for Charles and the court. Envelope has instructions and my wishes signed. Please, let someone listen.
The last entry was from two weeks before she died. The ink was lighter, like her hand was tired.
I closed the notebook. My eyes were hot but I didn't cry. Not then.
Grandpa reached over and put his hand gently on the cover, not taking it from me.
"She wrote down everything," Lily whispered. "Even the doctor thing."
Grace hadn't moved. "Did Mom know Dad wouldn't want us?"
Grandpa looked at her, and his voice was careful. "Your mom was trying to protect you. She wanted to make sure you stayed together."
I traced my name on the inside cover where Mom had written For Sophie - keep safe.
"This says she wanted us to live with you," I said to Grandpa. "Not foster care. She wrote it here. Isn't that enough?"
He was quiet for a long moment. The rain kept hitting the window. He rubbed his stubble with his hand.
"Sophie, this is important," he said slowly. "This shows what your mom wanted, and what really happened. But a notebook... a judge will want more than just words on paper. They'll ask if it's real, if it can be proven. Anyone could say I wrote it, or that your mom was just upset."
My stomach dropped.
"You mean they won't believe her?" I asked.
"I mean we need to make it so they have to believe her," he said. He looked at the phone and the little USB drive still sitting in the box. "Your mom knew that too. That's why she left more than one thing. The recordings and the envelope. She said recordings for proof."
Lily reached out and touched the cracked phone. "We never listened to them," she said. "Mom said Dad didn't know she was recording."
I looked at the sealed envelope with Grandpa's name on it. I wanted to open it right then, but Grandpa shook his head a little.
"We read the notebook tonight," he said. "Tomorrow we listen. We do it right, and we keep it safe. No one outside this house knows about this box. Not your dad. Not anyone. Okay?"
May you like
I nodded. I folded the notebook closed and held it against my chest the way I'd held her picture at the cemetery.
Grace climbed off her chair and came to stand next to me. She put her head on my shoulder. The lamp made our shadows big on the kitchen wall, four of us together around the table, with the box still open in the middle and the envelope still sealed.
