Chapter 13 - Consequences
Victoria’s attorney negotiated.
There would be no dramatic trial.
She admitted opening and concealing legal correspondence addressed to Aaron.
Because the conduct involved one known legal notice and there was no broader identity or financial scheme, prosecutors offered a plea to a lesser misdemeanor offense, probation and community service.
The family-court judge would also consider her conduct when evaluating the household.
Victoria accepted.
Aaron did not intervene.
That surprised Victoria.
“You could write a letter.”
“For what?”
“That I don’t want prosecution.”
Aaron looked at her.
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Think what you did should have no legal consequence?”
Victoria did not answer.
Aaron continued.
“I can say you’re taking responsibility. I can say you’re in therapy. I can say I don’t believe you’re dangerous.”
“But not ask them to drop it.”
“No.”
Victoria swallowed.
Months earlier she would have called that betrayal.
Now she nodded.
“Okay.”
Lily knew only that Victoria had broken a law by hiding something that did not belong to her.
Aaron and Dr. Reed explained it simply.
“Is she going to jail?”
“Probably not.”
“Does she have to do something?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Aaron blinked.
Lily looked defensive.
“She made Mommy wait longer.”
“Yes.”
“I’m still allowed to love her.”
“Yes.”
“I just think she should have to do something.”
Aaron almost laughed at the clarity children sometimes brought to morality.
Consequences without erasure.
The first visit to Natalie’s apartment happened after Dr. Patel reviewed the transition.
Aaron drove Lily to a modest brick building near a public library.
Natalie lived on the third floor.
She had prepared too much.
Fresh fruit.
Crackers.
Three board games.
Art supplies.
Two movie options.
A new toothbrush still packaged in case Lily wanted one.
Lily surveyed everything.
“You’re acting weird.”
Natalie laughed.
“I’m nervous.”
“You already know me now.”
“A little.”
Lily walked through the apartment.
There were photographs but not many.
One picture of Natalie with coworkers.
One with her sponsor, Renee.
One small framed photograph of baby Lily.
Lily stopped.
“You kept one.”
“I kept all of them.”
“Where?”
Natalie pointed toward a cabinet.
Inside were two albums.
Lily pulled them out.
Photographs of newborn Lily.
First bath.
First Christmas.
Aaron sleeping beside the crib.
Natalie holding Lily on a park bench.
For two hours, the visit became archaeology.
“Daddy had hair like that?”
“Yes.”
“He looks stupid.”
“He thought that haircut was attractive.”
Lily laughed.
Natalie showed one picture of Victoria at a company picnic from before the divorce.
Lily noticed.
“You knew her.”
“A little.”
“Did Daddy like her then?”
Natalie paused.
“I don’t know.”
That answer mattered.
Natalie did not turn suspicion into fact.
“Did you think he did?”
“Yes.”
“Was that why you got divorced?”
“No.”
Natalie sat beside her.
“My illness and drinking caused a lot of damage. Your dad and I had other problems too. Victoria wasn’t the reason our marriage ended.”
Lily processed that.
“Do you wish you stayed married?”
Natalie looked at the photograph.
“No.”
Lily seemed surprised.
“Why?”
“Because sometimes people can love each other and still become unhealthy together.”
“But then I wouldn’t have Victoria.”
“True.”
“And maybe you wouldn’t have gotten better.”
Natalie looked at her.
“Maybe.”
Lily seemed satisfied.
After lunch they walked to the library.
Natalie allowed Lily to choose six books despite the posted limit of five per child because one was for Natalie.
At four Aaron arrived.
Lily ran downstairs.
“I have a toothbrush there now.”
Aaron nearly stopped walking.
Natalie appeared behind her.
“She asked to leave it.”
Aaron looked at Natalie.
Old fear flashed.
A toothbrush implied belonging.
Another home.
Another parent.
Lily watched him.
Aaron smiled.
“Okay.”
Natalie’s shoulders relaxed.
On the drive home Lily fell asleep.
Aaron looked at her in the rearview mirror.
For years he had told himself he was protecting this sleeping child.
Now she had a toothbrush in another home and seemed no less his daughter.
At a red light, his phone rang.
Caroline.
He answered through the car.
“Aaron, where are you?”
“Driving home.”
“With Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t panic.”
Aaron immediately panicked.
“What?”
“I’m at Dad’s old storage locker.”
Their father had died eight years earlier.
Aaron and Caroline had kept one small storage unit because neither had the energy to sort the remaining boxes.
Caroline was finally clearing it.
“I found something with Natalie’s name.”
Aaron gripped the wheel.
“What?”
“A packet of letters.”
“From Natalie?”
“No.”
Caroline’s voice changed.
“They’re from Dad.”
Aaron and Caroline’s father, Frank Hayes, had died believing Natalie was dangerous.
At least that was what Aaron had always thought.
Caroline continued.
“He was writing to her.”
Aaron stared at the road.
“Why?”
“I haven’t read everything.”
“Then what do you know?”
Caroline inhaled.
“The last letter says, ‘Aaron is making a mistake, and I helped him make it.’”
Aaron’s hands went cold.
Another adult had known.
Another person had seen the family closing around Lily.
May you like
And Frank Hayes had apparently gone to his grave regretting his part in it.
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