Chapter 8 - What My Mother Remembered
The next morning, I took Mom to breakfast.
Just the two of us.
I told Melissa we were buying groceries.
She objected.
I ignored her.
We drove twenty minutes away before Mom finally relaxed.
She stared through the window.
“I forgot what it feels like to leave without asking.”
That sentence nearly broke me.
I reached across the table.
“You never have to ask again.”
She gave me a sad smile.
“Rachel, you can't stay forever.”
“No.”
“But they won't either.”
She looked frightened.
“Please don't put Derek on the street.”
There it was.
Even after everything, she was protecting him.
“He helped them forge your signature.”
Her eyes closed.
“He's my son.”
“And you're his mother.”
“I know.”
“Does he remember that?”
Tears filled her eyes.
I softened my voice.
“Tell me everything.”
Mom looked down at her coffee.
“At first, they were kind.”
“When did it change?”
“After three months.”
“What happened?”
“Melissa said money was tight.”
“She asked me to help with groceries.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
“That isn't what the statements show.”
Mom nodded slowly.
“Then it became more.”
“She asked for my debit card.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“For groceries.”
“Did she return it?”
“Eventually.”
“But she copied the information.”
“I think so.”
“What about the bruises?”
Mom pulled her sleeve lower.
“Melissa gets angry.”
“How often has she hit you?”
“Rachel.”
“How often?”
She whispered, “More than once.”
I forced myself to remain calm.
“What about Derek?”
“He never hit me.”
“Did he stop her?”
Silence.
That answer hurt more.
Mom took a shaky breath.
“There was one night.”
“What happened?”
“Melissa had been drinking.”
“She accused me of stealing a necklace.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not.”
“What happened?”
“She pushed me into the hall table.”
My jaw clenched.
“Where was Derek?”
“He was there.”
I looked away.
Mom continued.
“The necklace was in Melissa's purse.”
“How convenient.”
“She apologized later.”
“No.”
Mom frowned.
“No?”
“She didn't apologize.”
“She told you what you needed to hear so you wouldn't report her.”
Mom's eyes dropped.
Then she remembered something.
“She made me sign papers.”
“What papers?”
“I don't know.”
“When?”
“Last Christmas.”
“Why?”
“She said it was for insurance.”
“Was Derek there?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me it was routine.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did they have a notary?”
“I remember a woman.”
“What woman?”
“She came to the house.”
“Name?”
Mom closed her eyes.
Then suddenly, she whispered it.
“Cynthia.”
I texted Caroline.
Within ten minutes, she replied.
There was a notary named Cynthia Mills in Charlotte.
Her commission had expired.
But that was not the most interesting part.
Cynthia Mills was Melissa's cousin.
And according to public court records, she had been charged two years earlier with falsifying documents in another civil case.
Mom stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they're not nearly as clever as they think.”
My phone rang.
It was Mr. Harrison.
I answered.
“Rachel, you need to get back here.”
“What happened?”
“There's a moving truck outside.”
I stood.
“What are they moving?”
May you like
His answer made me grab my keys.
“Your mother's things.”
