Chapter 14 - The Person He Chose
Rachel told Eric that I had screamed at her on my doorstep.
She said I threatened to have her arrested and laughed when she begged me to think about the children.
I found out when Eric called at seven the next morning.
His voice was strained.
“Why would you say that to her?”
I was still in my robe.
“Ask Rachel what she brought to my door.”
“She said she brought paperwork to settle this.”
“That's true.”
“And you humiliated her.”
“Eric, I declined to sign a release.”
He took a breath.
“Mom, Rachel says you told her you want her to suffer.”
“I didn't.”
“She wouldn't invent something like that.”
I set down my coffee.
There it was, the reflex that had poisoned so many conversations.
Eric wasn't asking what happened.
He was asking me to accept Rachel's version so he could avoid choosing between us.
“Eric, she admitted to moving investor funds.”
The line went silent.
Then he said, “What?”
“Talk to your attorney.”
“How much?”
“She didn't tell me.”
“Why didn't you call me last night?”
“Because Rachel said you didn't know, and I wasn't going to speculate about financial allegations over the phone.”
He cursed softly.
Then, with frightening speed, he swung back to anger.
“You're trying to turn me against my wife.”
“No,” I said.
“I'm trying to stop being the person who protects you from information you need.”
He hung up.
I sat motionless for a moment.
Then I called Beth.
She listened and said, “Mom, he might choose not to believe you.”
“I know.”
“Can you live with that?”
The question hurt because I wasn't sure.
Over the next two days I didn't hear from Eric.
Thomas continued working through the documents.
Lena's materials were under review, and Sarah had advised Eric to preserve all communications with Dana, Nolan, and Rachel.
A complaint regarding the notarization had been submitted for appropriate investigation.
No official finding had been made.
I reminded myself of that whenever my anger began to outrun the evidence.
That Friday Beth took me to a small café Frank and I used to love.
We sat beside a window overlooking the river.
“You've done more than enough,” she said.
“Not for Chloe and Max.”
“You can love them without paying their parents' bills.”
I knew she was right.
I still worried about the children every hour.
Rachel had taught them to believe money appeared when Grandma was called.
Now the supply had stopped, and everyone was frightened.
That afternoon a school counselor contacted me with Eric's permission to discuss how Chloe was coping with stress at home.
The counselor did not share confidential details.
She simply asked whether I could offer stable, predictable contact.
I told her I could.
Then I arranged a weekly call with Chloe and Max at times approved by their parents.
I didn't ask the children about documents or money.
We talked about books and science projects and whether cinnamon rolls taste better warm or cold.
Max declared warm, with so much icing that the plate disappears.
I laughed for the first time in days.
After the call, Chloe stayed on for a moment.
“Grandma, Dad looks sad all the time.”
“I'm sorry, honey.”
“He says Mom made a mistake.”
“Grown-ups sometimes make mistakes.”
“Will they fix it?”
I wished I could promise her that.
Instead I said, “I hope they make honest choices from now on.”
She nodded, then whispered, “Dad told Mom he wouldn't sign anything else.”
Something loosened in my chest.
Perhaps Eric was finally listening to his lawyer.
At nine that night my phone rang.
It was Eric, but I could barely hear him over the noise around him.
“Mom,” he said, “I need you to know I didn't leave them.”
“Leave whom?”
“Chloe and Max.”
My heart began to race.
“Eric, where are you?”
“The police station.”
May you like
And then the line went dead.
