Chapter 5 - DADDY’S ERRANDS
For the first two nights, Lila stayed with Jenna in a temporary kinship placement.
Nobody called it permanent.
Nobody promised anything.
Jenna learned quickly that promises frightened Lila.
If Jenna said, “I’ll be back after work,” Lila asked how many minutes.
If Jenna said, “We can go to the park Saturday,” Lila asked what happened if Jenna changed her mind.
If the phone rang after dark, Lila stopped talking.
On the third evening, Jenna found her niece sitting on the kitchen floor beside the pantry.
“What are you doing down there?”
Lila looked embarrassed.
“Nothing.”
Jenna sat beside her.
They stayed silent.
Eventually Lila asked, “Do police take kids to jail?”
“No.”
“What if the kid carried something?”
Jenna’s chest tightened.
“Did someone tell you they would?”
Lila nodded.
“Daddy said if people saw what he gave me, they might think I stole it.”
“He told you that?”
“He said grown-ups blame kids too.”
Jenna forced herself to keep her voice calm.
“What did he usually ask you to carry?”
Lila looked at the pantry door.
“Stuff.”
“What kind?”
“Sometimes papers.”
“Anything else?”
“Money once.”
Jenna went still.
“In the box?”
Lila shook her head.
“Before.”
She explained in fragments.
Nathan occasionally put folded papers inside her backpack.
Once, he tucked cash into the zippered pocket of her winter coat.
Another time he asked her to hand a small parcel to a man waiting beside a gas station while Nathan remained inside his truck.
Lila did not understand what was happening.
She only understood the rules.
Never ask what something is.
Never show anyone.
Never tell teachers.
Never tell Aunt Jenna anything if she somehow appeared.
And above all:
If anyone asked questions, say Daddy didn’t know.
“Did it happen a lot?”
Lila considered.
“More after the red letters started coming.”
“What red letters?”
“The ones that made Daddy angry.”
Jenna knew immediately.
Her attorney’s notices had arrived in red overnight-mail envelopes.
She had demanded financial records.
Nathan had told her repeatedly that all trust spending had been for Lila.
Jenna never believed him.
But she had imagined sloppy bookkeeping.
Unnecessary purchases.
Perhaps unpaid taxes.
She had not imagined this.
“Why did he tape the box to you?”
Lila looked down.
“He said people were going to look through our house.”
Jenna swallowed.
“He said nobody would look under a kid’s clothes.”
The sentence was so calmly repeated that Jenna almost could not bear it.
“Did he know it hurt?”
“I told him it was too tight.”
“What did he say?”
Lila rubbed the side of her ribs.
“He said I only had to wear it until after school.”
Jenna stared at the floor.
“What else?”
Lila whispered, “He said if I cried at school, everybody would know I was a baby.”
For the first time since the hospital, Jenna felt something stronger than fear.
She felt rage.
Not loud rage.
May you like
Not the kind that breaks dishes.
The kind that becomes very patient.
