Chapter 2 - THE DRIVEWAY
Richard followed her outside.
“Hannah.”
She did not stop.
The afternoon had turned colder while they were inside.
Mia's coat was still in the hall closet.
Hannah wasn't going back for it.
She wrapped her own coat around the child and kept walking toward the car.
“Hannah.”
Richard caught up.
“Give me two minutes.”
“No.”
“Your mother is hurt.”
Hannah stopped.
Turned.
“So is my daughter.”
“You kicked a fifty-six-year-old woman.”
“Yes.”
Richard blinked.
He had expected denial.
Hannah adjusted Mia against her shoulder.
“I kicked her.”
“That is assault.”
“So was what Walter did.”
“He disciplined—”
Hannah's expression changed.
Richard stopped himself.
Good.
“Say it.”
“Hannah.”
“Finish the sentence.”
He didn't.
She opened the rear passenger door.
Mia refused the car seat at first.
Her little hands clung harder.
“Mommy.”
“I know.”
Hannah sat sideways in the back seat with her until her breathing slowed.
Richard remained outside.
Not coming closer.
At least he understood that much.
Then Evelyn appeared at the front door.
One hand pressed against her hip.
Walter behind her.
Still furious.
Several relatives hovered inside the house where they could see everything without participating.
Evelyn shouted across the driveway.
“If you call the police, they're going to hear what you did too!”
Hannah looked at her.
“Good.”
That silenced everybody.
She took out her phone.
Richard stared.
“You're really doing this.”
“Yes.”
“Think about Mia.”
“I am.”
“No, you're angry.”
“So are you.”
Hannah dialed.
Richard moved closer.
Not touching.
“Hannah, once you make this official, you don't control where it goes.”
She met his eyes.
“That was the sentence Mom used about Caleb.”
Richard's face changed.
Small.
Enough.
Evelyn heard from the doorway.
Her expression changed too.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“Hannah.”
She came down one step.
“Do not bring Caleb into this.”
Hannah stared.
She had not planned to.
Not aloud.
Not yet.
But her mother had made the connection immediately.
“Why?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“That has nothing to do with Mia.”
“Then why are you scared of his name?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Walter came down behind her.
“Caleb was violent.”
Hannah looked at him.
“And you still say that first.”
“Because it's true.”
“Maybe.”
That answer surprised Walter.
She continued.
“Maybe he was violent.”
Then she pointed toward the house.
“But I just watched you hit a two-year-old because she touched ribbon.”
Walter's face hardened.
“Don't compare the two.”
Hannah looked at Mia's cheek.
“I didn't.”
Then she turned away and finished the call.
She reported:
A family member had slapped her two-year-old daughter.
Her daughter was conscious and breathing.
There was a visible mark.
No other apparent injury.
And yes—
Hannah had kicked another adult during the confrontation afterward.
The dispatcher paused.
Hannah repeated it.
“I kicked her. Put that in too.”
Richard looked down.
Nobody behind him spoke.
When the call ended, Hannah buckled Mia into the car.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
Did Walter hit her?
Hannah went still.
Another message arrived.
Don't ask Mom how I got your number. She doesn't know.
Hannah stared at the screen.
Then the third:
May you like
It's Caleb.
Her brother had not spoken to her in nine years.
