Chương 13 - THE ROAD BACK TO HER CHILDREN
The call came on a Tuesday while June was signing the lease on a two-bedroom apartment in Chicago. Her name appeared alone at the top of the contract. She had chosen a second-floor place with a tiny balcony, decent public schools, and a bus route that connected to her new workplace. The deposit came from corrected wages, not a favor. She was midway through reading the pet policy when Alma's number flashed across her screen.
"A woman came to the apartment," Alma said. "She says somebody reported that the children have been abandoned. She's from family services. She wants to talk to you."
June closed her eyes. Alma had been the children's loving, authorized caregiver throughout the years June worked in Chicago. They spoke every night, June paid their expenses, and she visited whenever her wages allowed. An allegation of abandonment didn't reflect the family she had built; it reflected the lie someone wanted other people to believe.
She called Amara before she called Julian. The lawyer helped her identify the visiting worker's agency, understand the ordinary verification process, and gather records showing the care arrangement. June spoke directly with the caseworker, who was professional and concerned rather than threatening. She explained the complaint had come anonymously and that no immediate action against the family was planned. She would complete the required checks and document what she found.
After the call, June sat on the empty apartment floor, holding a key that should have represented the beginning of a happier life. She wanted to scream. She wanted to drive to Preston's house and demand to know whether he had anything to do with the report. Instead, she photographed the message Alma had received and forwarded it to Amara. Suspicion wasn't proof. June had learned the cost of letting powerful people rewrite the facts, and she refused to do it herself.
Julian called when he heard she'd left work early. June told him the situation was being handled and asked him not to contact the agency or use his name to influence the inquiry. He agreed without argument. Then he asked whether she wanted him to bring groceries to the new apartment.
"I haven't moved in," she said.
"Then I suppose the only useful groceries are the kind I can leave at the door after you do."
Despite herself, she laughed. It was a small sound, but it broke the pressure behind her eyes. "A grocery store gift card would defeat the point," she told him. "I'm trying to make this place mine."
"Understood. Call if you need me to carry a couch. I'm better at heavy furniture than cooking."
She hung up feeling lighter. Respect, she was learning, was not the same as grand generosity. Sometimes it was a wealthy man accepting the word no the first time.
In Peoria, the caseworker met Lila and Micah, reviewed Alma's caregiving documents, spoke with June by video, and closed the concern after finding no evidence supporting the allegation. June took the afternoon off to celebrate with her children. She let them choose paint samples for the new apartment over a video call. Lila wanted pale green because it reminded her of spring. Micah requested black walls decorated with stars. They compromised on navy curtains and glow-in-the-dark planets.
A week later, investigators found a connection between Preston's communications consultant and several anonymous posts exposing workers' family addresses. They could not immediately attribute the family-services complaint to Preston, but the discovery supported a separate inquiry into possible witness harassment. Amara told June what was established and what remained uncertain. June thanked her for the distinction. She was beginning to trust people who didn't need certainty they couldn't honestly claim.
June gave formal notice that she would no longer accept overnight assignments once the children moved. Mrs. Baines surprised her by asking whether she might help draft a more humane schedule for the staff who stayed. June agreed to one paid consultation, with Amara reviewing the arrangement. She had learned to distinguish being useful from being endlessly available. That afternoon, she watched Lila choose her own bedroom shelf on a video call and felt a rush of affection for the dull paperwork involved in moving. Utility accounts, school enrollment, and bus passes were ordinary administrative chores. To June, they looked like freedom.
On moving day, Marisol drove the rented van. Mrs. Baines donated kitchen utensils only after June agreed to accept them as a personal gift. Claire arrived with a bookshelf she'd built herself, its edges slightly crooked and its finish uneven. Julian carried boxes up two flights without making a speech about how exhausting manual labor was. He seemed surprised when Micah, arriving with Alma and Lila, ordered him to put the dinosaur box in the correct room.
"Yes, sir," Julian said solemnly.
"I'm not a sir. I'm five."
"My mistake, commander."
Lila inspected every room before announcing that the apartment smelled like fresh paint and possibilities. Alma sat at the small kitchen table and cried while pretending the onions for dinner had offended her eyes. June let her. There was room for grief in a happy day, especially when the happiness had taken so long to arrive.
That night, June made spaghetti in a kitchen with mismatched pans. She placed three plates on the table and one beside them for Alma, who had agreed to stay while recovering. Lila asked why there was another plate warming in the oven.
"Marisol might come back for leftovers," June said.
Micah considered this. "People can come eat here even if they don't work for us?"
June looked down at him. His innocence revealed the strange rules the children had absorbed from years of financial anxiety and her descriptions of the estate. "Absolutely," she said. "Especially if they're hungry."
When everyone was asleep, June stood on the balcony overlooking a busy Chicago street. The city wasn't quiet. Sirens sounded in the distance, neighbors argued about parking, and a train rumbled several blocks away. She loved every imperfect sound. They meant she was home with her children, awake under a roof nobody could take from her with a fabricated deduction.
May you like
Her phone vibrated with a message from Julian. It was a photograph of the new staff dining table at the mansion, set with warm food and a bowl of fresh fruit. Beneath it he'd written: The overnight staff chose the chairs and the menu themselves. You were right. A rule is stronger than a promise.
June smiled and saved the picture. Then she replied with one of Lila and Micah asleep in their new bedroom, the glow-in-the-dark planets already shining above them. She didn't need to explain what the image meant. This time, Julian understood.
