Chapter 15: Staying Because I Chose To
The pediatric clinic smelled like the same hand soap and paper as last week, only this time Lucas didn't cling to my leg in the waiting room. He sat next to Milo in the two low chairs by the window and swung his feet, and when Milo bumped his shoulder Lucas bumped him back. I could breathe watching that.
Dr. Patel came in with her chart and pulled the rolling stool close. She didn't rush. She lifted Lucas's shirt first, then Milo's, and checked the fading color along their ribs and forearms where the marks had been. The angry red had gone to a dull yellow and gray that was hard to see unless you knew where to look.
"Much better," she said, and looked at me, then at them. "Healing as we'd expect."
She pressed gently around Lucas's wrist and asked if it hurt. He shook his head.
"Does it still hurt when you sleep?" she asked Milo.
"No," Milo said quietly.
She turned to me and Daniel, who stood by the exam table with his hands in his pockets. "I'll close the medical follow-up on my end. No further exams needed unless you see anything new. Keep them in normal play, normal baths, normal school. If you notice nightmares or clinginess that doesn't ease in the next month, I can refer you to counseling. It's common after confinement, and it doesn't have to be a big thing. Just someone to talk to."
I nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
Daniel asked, "And the documentation?"
"On file," she said. "If the court needs it, they can request it. From a medical standpoint, they're healing well."
In the parking lot after, Daniel held the car doors while the boys climbed into their seats. I had a voicemail I'd been putting off listening to until after the appointment. It was from Marcy Holloway, two streets over. Her kids were older and she'd offered me a full-time nanny job the day before, through the neighborhood text chain. Good pay, set hours, no live-in. I'd told her I needed to think about it.
When we got back to the house, the boys ran inside to get their sneakers off and I stood in the kitchen with my phone in my hand. Daniel set his keys on the counter and slid a folder toward me.
"I had our attorney draw it up," he said. "It's not a favor."
I opened it. It was three pages. Employment Agreement. My name typed at the top. Hourly rate higher than what I'd been making, with overtime after forty, paid sick time, two weeks paid vacation. Hours written as Monday through Friday, seven thirty to five thirty, with a clause that any evening or weekend work had to be asked and agreed to in writing. There was a line about cameras: disclosure of location, no cameras in bathrooms or my quarters, footage accessible to me on request. And a termination clause at the bottom that said either party could end the agreement with two weeks written notice, no penalty, no forfeiture of pay.
I read it twice. My hand was steady but I could feel my pulse in my throat.
"You don't have to sign it today," he said. His voice was even, not urgent the way it had been on the street that first afternoon. "Marcy called me too. She asked if I would be a reference. I told her you were excellent and that whatever you decided, I'd give you a full final check and a letter. I mean that, Emily."
I looked up at him. "You'd really be okay if I left?"
He exhaled slowly. "I'd be disappointed, but yes. I'd be okay. This can't be because you have nowhere else to go. It has to be because you want it."
I thought about the worn brown suitcase by my bedroom door, packed since that morning Victoria had told me to get out. I'd never unpacked it after the sheriff left with her. I'd been living out of the top half like it was temporary.
"I want to stay through the school year," I said. "If we do it on paper. With this."
He nodded once. "Then we do it on paper."
I signed both copies with the pen he left on the counter. He signed too. He slid one copy back to me and I folded it and put it in my tote bag.
May you like
Later, when the boys were building tracks on the living room rug, I went to my room and unzipped that suitcase. I took everything out piece by piece. The navy jumpsuit I hung in the closet. The folded t-shirts I put in the dresser. The toiletries I lined up on the small shelf. The yellow rubber glove I didn't need inside anymore I tucked into the front pocket of my tote. At the very bottom was the thin lining I'd checked a dozen times since the bracelet search. I zipped the suitcase empty, lifted it, and slid it onto the top shelf of the hall closet, flat against the wall where it wouldn't be in the way. I closed the closet door.
That late afternoon the light came down the brick street the same way it had on day zero, warm and low and golden over the lawns and the gabled houses. I walked with Lucas and Milo toward the small park at the end of the block. No suitcase behind me. My hands were free and I held one boy's hand in each of mine. Behind us, Daniel sat on the front porch steps with a mug, not watching us like he was afraid we'd vanish, just there. Lucas let go to chase a leaf that skittered over the brick, and Milo laughed and chased him. I kept walking, and my pocket bumped lightly where the yellow glove rested, and the street was quiet except for their sneakers and the sound of them breathing as they ran ahead and then ran back.
