Chapter 15 - The School Project
Victoria stared at the poster board.
Aaron wished she had more time before seeing it.
Lily had placed three photographs across the top.
DAD.
STEPMOM VICTORIA.
MOM NATALIE.
Victoria’s smile froze.
Lily noticed immediately.
“You don’t like it.”
“No, sweetheart.”
“You made the face.”
“What face?”
“The bad face.”
Aaron intervened.
“Victoria.”
“I’m fine.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“No, you’re not.”
Victoria sat at the kitchen table.
She had spent months practicing the difference between feeling something and making Lily responsible for it.
“I’m sad,” she admitted.
Lily’s expression softened slightly.
“Because it says stepmom?”
“Yes.”
“You are my stepmom.”
“I know.”
“I used to call you Mom.”
“I know.”
Lily looked worried.
Victoria immediately continued.
“You are not doing anything wrong.”
Lily remained silent.
“I need you to hear that.”
“Okay.”
“I loved when you called me Mom.”
“Can I still sometimes?”
Victoria’s eyes filled.
“If you want.”
“But Natalie is Mom too.”
“Yes.”
“You’re crying.”
“I am.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
Victoria wiped her face.
“I’m learning that being sad doesn’t mean somebody else has to change.”
Aaron looked at her.
That was real progress.
Lily approached.
She put one arm around Victoria.
Not to repair her.
Because she wanted to.
Victoria hugged her gently.
“Your poster is beautiful.”
“Mom helped with the green letters.”
A tiny pause.
Then Victoria smiled.
“They look good.”
At school, Lily presented her project.
“My family is complicated,” she announced to twenty-one second graders.
Her teacher almost laughed.
Lily explained that she lived with her dad.
Her stepmom helped raise her.
Her mom lived in another apartment.
Nobody needed the entire custody history.
One child asked, “Which mom is real?”
Lily answered immediately.
“Both.”
The teacher wrote something in her notebook.
After school, Natalie picked Lily up for their first court-approved unsupervised weekday visit.
Aaron had signed the school authorization.
That signature had taken him nearly ten minutes.
Lily showed Natalie the poster.
Natalie studied Victoria’s photograph.
“She looks pretty.”
“She is.”
“Did she like the poster?”
“She was sad.”
Natalie nodded.
“I can understand that.”
Lily stared.
“Why are grown-ups always understanding people who hurt them?”
Natalie laughed.
“Because understanding doesn’t mean approving.”
“Oh.”
“Also because grown-ups are messy.”
“That part I know.”
They went for frozen yogurt.
On the walk back, a woman called Natalie’s name.
Natalie turned.
Her face changed.
The woman was Renee, Natalie’s recovery sponsor.
Renee smiled at Lily.
“So this must be Lily.”
Lily looked surprised.
“You know me?”
“Your mom talks about you.”
Natalie looked embarrassed.
“Not too much.”
Renee laughed.
“Too much.”
Lily beamed.
Then Renee said something casually.
“I’m glad you two finally get your Saturdays.”
Natalie corrected gently.
“Some Saturdays.”
“Right.”
Renee squeezed Natalie’s shoulder and left.
Lily looked at her mother.
“You talk about me?”
“Yes.”
“What do you say?”
“Everything.”
“But you didn’t know everything.”
“Exactly. So there was a lot of wondering.”
Lily smiled.
That evening, however, the family’s fragile progress took another hit.
Aaron received an email from Natalie’s attorney.
The next court review was approaching.
Natalie intended to request one overnight visit per month.
Aaron stared at the message.
The apartment.
The toothbrush.
The bed Natalie had shown Lily but never called “your room.”
Suddenly all of it seemed like preparation.
Victoria arrived for therapy dinner and found Aaron pacing.
“What happened?”
He showed her.
Victoria’s old instincts surfaced immediately.
“She’s moving too fast.”
Aaron looked at her.
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
“Or does it feel fast because we delayed five years?”
Victoria went quiet.
That question stopped him too.
When Lily came downstairs, she sensed tension.
“What?”
Aaron did not hide it.
“Natalie asked the court to consider overnight visits.”
Lily’s eyes widened.
“Sleep at her house?”
“Maybe eventually.”
“Can I?”
Aaron wanted to say no.
Every protective instinct rose.
Then he remembered Dr. Patel.
Susan.
The evaluations.
The daytime visits.
Natalie’s consistent behavior.
He answered carefully.
“I need to talk to the professionals.”
Lily frowned.
“Do you want me to?”
Aaron almost lied.
“No.”
She looked hurt.
“But wanting and deciding aren’t the same thing.”
Lily waited.
“I’m scared.”
“Of Mommy drinking?”
“Partly.”
“She hasn’t.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Aaron struggled.
“Of not being there if you need me.”
Lily considered.
“I can call you.”
“I know.”
“Does it make you sad?”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m sleeping somewhere else?”
“Yes.”
Lily walked over and took his hand.
“I sleep at Caroline’s.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
He had no answer that did not reduce to history.
Victoria watched.
A strange realization came over her.
For once, Aaron was standing where she had stood.
Afraid love might move without him.
She said softly, “Aaron.”
He looked at her.
“If the therapist says Lily is ready…”
She forced herself to finish.
“…we should let her try.”
Aaron stared.
Victoria gave a sad smile.
“Apparently I’m paying attention in therapy too.”
At the next review, Dr. Patel recommended gradual progression.
One evening visit first.
Then a single overnight with a clear phone plan.
The judge agreed.
Aaron signed the updated schedule.
His hand shook.
Natalie did not smile when the order was entered.
She looked at him.
“Thank you.”
Aaron replied, “Take care of her.”
Natalie’s eyes hardened slightly.
“I always wanted to.”
The sentence hurt.
But Aaron let it.
The first overnight was set for three weeks later.
Then, two days before it, Natalie received a call from her employer.
There had been a complaint.
Someone had reported her as an unstable recovering alcoholic who was seeking custody of a child despite “recent relapses.”
The claim was false.
But the caller had known enough private history to sound credible.
Natalie told Aaron.
Aaron’s immediate suspicion was not directed at her.
It went somewhere else.
Victoria.
May you like
And when he confronted his wife, the fragile trust they had rebuilt threatened to collapse all over again.
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