Chapter 8: Served
Derek was served on a Tuesday.
Grace called me at 11:14 that morning.
"Process server confirmed delivery at his office," she said.
"Forty minutes ago."
I was in Rachel's kitchen feeding Emily.
The February light came through the window at a low angle and lay across the table in a pale stripe.
"How did he react?" I asked.
"The server said he read the first page, set it on his desk, and asked the server to leave." A pause.
"Then he called Marcus Webb.
Webb called me twenty minutes later."
"What did Webb say?"
"He said Derek is prepared to be reasonable if you return to Columbus and agree to mediation." Grace's voice was dry.
"I told him we are already in the legal process and that reasonable would have been not draining the joint account."
"What did he say to that?"
"He said the transfers were legitimate marital financial management and that he looks forward to demonstrating that in court." Another pause.
"He also said that Derek intends to pursue full custody on the grounds that you removed the child from the state without consent."
My hand tightened on the bottle.
"He can pursue it," Grace said.
"He won't get it.
Emily is ten days old.
You are her mother and her sole caregiver.
But I want you to understand — this is the part where he fights.
He's not going to accept this quietly."
"I didn't think he would."
"Good.
I've filed the motion for temporary custody.
We have a hearing date in three weeks.
Between now and then, document everything.
If he contacts you, save it.
If he shows up, call the police and then call me." A brief pause.
"Nora."
"Yes."
"You're doing the right thing.
I want to make sure you hear that from someone who has seen the other side of cases like this."
I looked at Emily.
She had finished the bottle and was looking up at me with the focused, serious expression she had been wearing since the first morning — as if she were trying to work something out.
"Thank you, Grace," I said.
I ended the call.
Rachel was in the doorway.
She had heard enough.
"He's going for custody," she said.
"He's threatening it.
Grace says he won't get it."
"But he'll try to scare you with it."
"He already is."
Rachel came in and sat across from me.
She looked at Emily for a moment.
"Do you remember what you said to me," she said, "the first time you called me?
Three weeks before the baby?
You said you were sorry for burdening me."
"I remember."
"You apologized for calling your own sister." She looked up at me.
"That's what he did to you.
He made you feel like needing help was something to be ashamed of."
I didn't say anything.
"I just want you to remember that," Rachel said.
"When he starts making noise about custody and courts and lawyers — remember what he made you feel like for asking for a cab."
Emily made a small sound.
I shifted her to my shoulder.
My phone buzzed on the table.
Derek's number.
I looked at it.
Rachel looked at it.
It buzzed a second time.
A third.
I picked it up, pressed record on the voice memo app, and answered.
"Nora." His voice was controlled.
Careful.
The client-dinner voice, not the voicemail voice.
"I think we've both had time to calm down.
I'd like to talk."
"You can talk to Grace Hendricks," I said.
"I don't want to talk to your lawyer.
I want to talk to my wife."
"I'm not your wife anymore, Derek.
Not in any way that matters."
A pause.
When he spoke again, the careful voice had a crack in it.
"I haven't met my daughter."
The sentence was designed to land somewhere soft.
I felt it try.
"You had every chance to be there when she was born," I said.
"You chose a client dinner."
"That's not fair—"
"You tossed fifteen dollars on the counter."
Silence.
"You can request visitation through the court," I said.
"Grace will respond to any filing Webb makes.
That's how this works now."
"Nora—"
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking slightly.
Rachel reached across the table and put her hand over mine.
Neither of us said anything.
Outside, a car passed slowly on the street below.
Then another.
The pale stripe of light on the table shifted half an inch as a cloud moved.
May you like
Emily had fallen asleep on my shoulder.
I sat there and let my hands stop shaking.
