Chapter 5 - THE RIDE AWAY
Grandpa got into the driver’s seat without another word to any of them.
He closed the door, adjusted the heat higher, and finally looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Did she ask you to sign anything else?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He put the car in gear.
Outside, Lauren suddenly stepped toward the sedan.
“Wait—where are you taking her?”
Grandpa lowered the window just enough.
“To safety.”
Mom hurried down the driveway, horrified now that consequences had shown up in a black sedan with snow on the hood.
“Dad, don’t be like this. Madison’s tired. Lauren’s just stressed.”
Grandpa looked at her the way a judge looks at someone lying poorly.
“A baby doesn’t belong in the street because his aunt is stressed.”
Lauren’s voice rose. “You’re blowing this up!”
Grandpa’s answer came sharp and flat.
“No. You did.”
Then he rolled the window up and drove away.
I stared back through the glass as the house got smaller.
Mom had both hands pressed to her coat.
Dad stood in the doorway, not moving.
Lauren remained by the Cadillac, suddenly small beside it.
Noah made a sleepy sound against my chest.
I kissed the top of his blanket.
Only then did I realize my whole body was shaking.
Grandpa drove in silence for several blocks before speaking.
“You should have called me.”
“I didn’t want to cause trouble.”
He gave a sad little exhale.
“Madison, trouble already existed. You were just carrying it.”
That sentence settled somewhere deep in me.
No one in my family had ever said anything like that before.
They always made me feel like conflict appeared because I noticed it.
Grandpa made it sound like conflict appeared because someone created it.
And that was different.
He drove me to his house across town, a brick ranch that still smelled faintly like cedar and coffee no matter the season.
He helped me inside, made sure the heat was on high, brought over my grandmother’s old rocking chair, and tucked a blanket over my knees while I fed Noah.
Then he disappeared into his office.
When he returned, he was holding a file.
Inside it was a copy of the Cadillac title.
My name.
Only my name.
He set it on the table beside me.
“I told you there would be no confusion.”
“There wasn’t,” I said quietly. “Not for me.”
May you like
He nodded.
“No. For them.”
