Chapter 5
The county child welfare building smelled like wet coats, copier toner, and the lemon cleaner they used on every hard surface. I stood outside the visitation room with my hands empty.
The silver half of the locket was in evidence. Rachel had told me not to ask for it, not even as a comfort. The chain and its matching piece had to remain sealed until the forensic review was complete. I understood the reason. I still felt the absence against my throat like a missing tooth.
A child welfare supervisor named Denise opened the door. She wore a navy cardigan and carried a clipboard against her chest.
“Lucy knows you may be connected to her early life,” she said quietly. “She doesn't know what that means. Let her set the pace.”
“I will.”
“No gifts, no promises, no questions about Mara unless Lucy brings her up. If she asks something you can't answer, say so.”
I nodded, then stepped inside.
The room had two small chairs, a low table, a box of crayons, and a window looking over the county parking lot. Lucy sat on the carpet with her stuffed rabbit tucked beneath one arm. Her yellow raincoat was gone, replaced by a blue sweater with one sleeve pushed higher than the other. Her light brown hair fell across her forehead.
She looked at me without smiling.
“Hi, Lucy.”
“Hi.”
I sat in the chair across from her instead of moving closer. The rabbit's one stitched ear pointed toward me.
“Is that your rabbit?”
She looked down at it. “His name is Button.”
“That's a good name.”
“He doesn't like strangers.”
“I'll stay over here, then.”
That seemed to surprise her. She picked up a green crayon and drew a line across the paper. For a while, the only sounds were the wax scratching and the faint hum of the heating vent.
Then she looked up. “Why do you know my song?”
My breath caught, but I kept my voice even. “I used to sing it to a baby.”
“Me?”
“I don't know yet. The grown-ups are still checking.”
Her mouth tightened. “That's not an answer.”
“No,” I said. “It isn't.”
She pressed the crayon so hard it broke. The small snap seemed to fill the room.
“Are you going to take me?”
“No.” I made myself leave the answer plain. “Not today. No one is going to make you choose between people you love.”
“She said you were a stranger.”
“I know.”
“Are you?”
I looked at her hands, at the purple mark the broken crayon had left on her finger. “Right now, I am someone you're getting to know.”
She studied me as if that answer had edges she could test. “Sing it.”
“Only if you want me to.”
“I said sing it.”
I sang softly, keeping my eyes on the carpet instead of her face. The melody came from somewhere older than language, something my mother had sung to me and I had carried without knowing where it belonged. Lucy's fingers stopped moving.
After the first verse, her shoulders rose. Her eyes shone, and she pulled Button against her chest.
I stopped immediately.
“Don't,” she whispered.
“Okay.”
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
“Mara sings it too,” Lucy said. “But she changes some parts.”
“What parts?”
Lucy frowned. “She says the moon is hiding. You said the moon was coming home.”
The words landed quietly, but they changed the shape of the room. Mara had known enough of the lullaby to alter it. She might have heard it from someone. She might have found it in a record. I didn't know, and I wouldn't turn Lucy's memory into a weapon.
“Maybe she wanted it to sound different,” I said.
“She says her way is better.”
“Sometimes people make songs their own.”
Lucy nodded, though she didn't look convinced.
Denise tapped lightly on the open door. “Five minutes.”
Lucy dropped her crayon. “Already?”
“I know,” I said.
She leaned forward for the first time. “Will you come back?”
The question hurt more because she asked it carefully, as if expecting me to make a promise I couldn't keep.
“Yes,” I said. “If the supervisor says we can, I'll come back.”
“Next time?”
“Next time.”
Denise gave me the signal when the visit ended. I stood, but I didn't reach for Lucy. She hugged Button and watched me walk to the door.
“Claire?”
I turned.
“Don't sing the ending next time.”
“I won't.”
She considered that, then gave one small nod.
Outside, rain ticked against the parking lot windows. I had wanted a miracle from the first visit—a name, an embrace, some visible proof that the years between us could fold in half.
May you like
Instead, Lucy had asked me to stop singing.
I understood that stopping was the only thing I had done right. And when Denise scheduled another visit, Lucy agreed before I could answer.
