Chapter 7: The Request They Repeated Back
I caught up with Rebecca at the end of the school hallway. She had stopped beside a display of construction-paper houses, each one labeled with a child’s idea of home. The blue folder was locked beneath her arm.
“Who is Bella?”
Rebecca glanced toward the office. “Not here.”
“You put her name beside the programs you contacted.”
“I said it wasn’t part of the school request.”
She kept walking. I went back for Emily instead of following. She was still in the reception area, turning the same page of her book back and forth. When I held out my hand, she closed it immediately.
Mrs. Hayes returned before we reached the exit. She had spoken with the receiving program and asked whether I wanted the director’s contact information. I did. Rebecca stood near the outer doors while Mrs. Hayes wrote a name and number on the back of the contact log.
Outside, the pavement was still damp from an early shower. I settled Emily into the back seat of my car, then called the number with the rear door open so she could see me.
The director, a man named Paul Benton, found the inquiry under Rebecca’s name. He was careful with every answer. Rebecca had asked about weekday residential placement, Sunday evening drop-off, Friday afternoon pickup, transportation, and full academic records. She had also asked how quickly a child could begin after a family transition.
“Was it described as temporary?” I asked.
“No.”
“A trial?”
“No, Mr. Moreno.”
I watched Rebecca through the windshield. She stood beside her car with the folder open, pulling pages forward as if she could rearrange what had already happened.
Mr. Benton said no application had been completed because the program required a legal guardian’s signature, medical information, and an intake meeting with the child. Rebecca had asked whether those requirements could be finished after the wedding.
The proposed arrangement was not a few afternoons or extra support. Emily would have slept somewhere else five nights a week.
I thanked him and ended the call.
Rebecca came toward me. “They provide structure.”
“She already has a home.”
“You’re treating the word residential like punishment.”
“I’m treating it like residence.”
Emily could not hear us through the closed windows, but I lowered my voice anyway. Rebecca said she had researched options because she expected our household to change. She claimed she had not made a final decision.
I showed her the note from Mrs. Hayes, including the requested effective date.
“You chose the first school day after the wedding.”
“I chose a date for planning purposes.”
“You tried to withdraw her.”
Her face tightened. “I was preparing for what might be best.”
I asked again about Bella.
Rebecca looked down at the folder. “Bella Cho restores old recordings and electronic toys. I contacted her about something from your house.”
For a moment I heard the broken sequence from behind the chapel as clearly as if it were playing beside us.
“Mr. Moreno, it’s just a child’s toy. Vince, don’t trust Bella.”
Rebecca saw recognition move across my face.
She opened the folder just enough to remove a business card. Bella Cho’s name appeared beneath the words AUDIO AND MEDIA REPAIR. The address was local. On the back, in Rebecca’s handwriting, was a date from three weeks earlier and one word: Emily.
“What did you give her?”
Rebecca took the card back. “An old recordable toy I found while we were clearing space.”
“Clearing Emily’s room for the office?”
She did not answer.
I opened the rear door and sat beside my daughter. One of the flowers in her hair had bent against the seat. I straightened it while Rebecca remained on the curb.
May you like
Emily’s home, school, and weekdays had all been included in a plan made without me. Now an object from my house—and apparently a voice from my past—was part of it too.
I called the number on Bella Cho’s card.
