Chapter 3: The Pages Dad Never Saw
Rachel reached for the phone.
“Give that back.”
Dad held it beyond her hand.
“Answer me.”
“You asked me to find help for Abigail.”
That was my name.
Seven letters when people spelled it properly.
“I asked you to find an accessible day school,” Dad said.
“I never asked you to send her anywhere.”
Rachel’s mouth tightened.
“You said you were exhausted.”
“I said I needed help.”
“You said you couldn’t keep doing everything alone.”
Dad’s hand lowered slightly.
Rachel saw it and stepped closer.
“Tell her, Daniel.
Tell Abigail why you asked me to research residential schools.”
My crutch slipped against the floor.
Dad caught my arm.
“I asked about afternoon therapy.
Nothing more.”
“But you signed the application.”
“I signed a request for funding.”
“You signed where I told you to sign.”
Dad stared at her.
“What did you put above my signature?”
Rachel grabbed the phone, but Evan snatched it first and ran behind his mother.
“Aunt Claire, hold this!”
Claire caught the phone.
Until then, she had been silent beside the birthday cake.
Rachel pointed at her.
“Stay out of my marriage.”
Claire looked at Evan’s trembling shoulders.
“You frightened my son into silence.
I’m already in it.”
“Unlock the phone,” Dad said.
“No,” Rachel answered.
“Those messages are private.”
“Not if they concern my daughter.”
“She became my responsibility when I married you.”
Dad moved between Rachel and me.
“Responsibility isn’t ownership.”
Rachel laughed once.
“You think you can manage without me?
Who calls the therapists?
Who handles the bills?
Who fills out every form while you play devoted father?”
Dad’s voice dropped.
“Where are the papers?”
“I mailed them.”
“To whom?”
“Hawthorne House.”
The room became quiet enough for me to hear water dripping from my name card.
Dad turned to me.
“Abigail, you are not going anywhere.”
Rachel leaned around him.
“Don’t promise what you can’t control.
Hawthorne has already reviewed her case.”
“My case?” I whispered.
“It’s a school,” Rachel said.
“You’ll have people like you there.”
“People you can hide beside the trash can?” Dad asked.
Rachel’s face hardened.
“Be careful, Daniel.
If you make a scene, I’ll tell everyone why you really needed me.”
Dad flinched.
I pulled my arm away from him.
“Did you want me to leave?”
“No.”
“You asked her to look.”
“For help at home,” he said.
“I should have checked every page.
I didn’t, and that was wrong.”
Rachel gave me a thin smile.
“He signed because part of him wanted his old life back.”
My second crutch fell.
I sank into a chair and covered my ears.
Dad knelt in front of me.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
“I make you tired.”
“You make me your father.”
“That isn’t the same answer.”
His eyes filled.
“Then here is the answer.
I want you with me.
Today, tomorrow, and every difficult day after that.”
Evan tugged Claire’s sleeve.
“I took pictures,” he said.
Rachel turned.
“Pictures of what?”
“The blue folder.
You left it open in Dad’s office.”
Evan tapped his little tablet.
A photograph filled the screen.
At the top was my full name: **Abigail Rose Mercer**.
Below it were the words **permanent residential placement**.
Dad scrolled to the second page.
His face changed.
“What is it?” Claire asked.
Dad turned the screen toward Rachel.
The next line said that once I entered Hawthorne House, Rachel would receive sole authority over every payment from my care trust.
May you like
Then Evan whispered, “There’s another page.
It says how much money she gets.”
