[CHAPTER 16]
The day Nathan was sentenced, I expected to feel something dramatic.
Relief.
Victory.
Closure.
Instead, I felt tired.
The judge sentenced him to years in federal prison, ordered restitution, and permanently barred him from managing charitable organizations.
Caleb received a reduced sentence because of cooperation.
Victor entered witness protection temporarily.
Laura Pike was never charged.
She had chosen truth before anyone forced her.
When Nathan stood to speak before sentencing, he looked toward Mother.
Not me.
“Mom.”
Her face crumpled.
He had not called her that in public since he was a teenager.
“I’m sorry.”
Mother closed her eyes.
Nathan continued.
“I kept telling myself I would put the money back.”
The judge listened.
“So it became easy to take the next amount.”
He swallowed.
“Then Grace found out.”
My hands tightened.
“I was afraid.”
He looked at me.
“I told myself she was attacking the family.”
I stared at him.
“But she wasn’t.”
For the first time, Nathan’s voice broke.
“She was protecting it better than I was.”
Emma was not in court.
I was grateful.
Nathan looked at Mother again.
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
Good.
“I just want you to know I know what I did.”
Afterward, Mother cried in the parking garage.
I stood several feet away.
She looked at me.
“Can you ever forgive me?”
There had been a time when I would have said yes because she was my mother.
Or no because I was angry.
Now I understood that neither answer needed to happen quickly.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
“That’s fair.”
“But I want a relationship with you.”
Her face changed.
I continued.
“A truthful one.”
“Yes.”
“No protecting me from reality.”
“Yes.”
“No protecting family names.”
“Yes.”
“No deciding silence is love.”
She started crying again.
“Yes.”
I hugged her.
It was the first time since Grace’s evidence surfaced.
She held me tightly.
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
“I know.”
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I failed her.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
Mother sobbed against my shoulder.
Truth first.
Comfort second.
Grace would have approved.
At home, another change was happening.
Eli had unpacked his backpack.
I noticed accidentally.
It hung empty on a chair.
His shoes were no longer beside his bed.
The crackers under the mattress were gone.
Not because Emma stopped replacing them.
Because he had stopped hiding them.
I stood in his doorway staring like an idiot.
He looked up from homework.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re being weird.”
“Probably.”
“Go away.”
I smiled.
“Yes, sir.”
He called after me.
“Michael?”
I turned.
He hesitated.
“Can I paint the wall?”
My throat tightened.
“What color?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fine.”
“Like, actually paint it?”
“It’s your room.”
He stared.
Those three words landed hard.
“My room?”
“For as long as you need it.”
He looked down.
“Okay.”
The next weekend, Thomas helped paint.
Eli chose blue.
Emma wanted one wall yellow.
Nobody asked Emma.
She complained for forty minutes.
Thomas laughed.
I liked him more than I wanted to.
That complicated things.
During a break, he and I stood outside.
“I got offered a better job,” he said.
“That’s good.”
“Different town.”
My stomach tightened.
“How far?”
“Two hours.”
“Are you taking it?”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Because of Eli?”
“Yes.”
“You need a life too.”
“I had one.”
His voice softened.
“I chose drugs over it.”
He looked through the window at his son.
“I’m not choosing a job over him now.”
I respected that.
He continued.
“I know you care about him.”
“I do.”
“He might never come live with me full-time.”
I didn’t answer.
Thomas looked at me.
“I used to think that would mean I failed again.”
“And now?”
“Now I think failing again would be making him responsible for proving I changed.”
I nodded.
“Karen says permanency matters.”
My chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“She says if reunification stays uncertain too long, guardianship may be healthier.”
I looked at him.
“That’s between you, Eli, and the court.”
“I know.”
Thomas inhaled.
“If he wants to stay here…”
His voice cracked.
“I won’t fight it.”
I had no response.
Thomas wiped his eyes quickly.
“Don’t tell him yet.”
“I won’t.”
“Unless he asks.”
“Of course.”
Inside, Emma screamed.
We ran.
She stood covered in blue paint.
Eli held a roller.
Thomas stared.
“What happened?”
Emma pointed.
“He attacked me.”
Eli shouted, “She painted my ear!”
“You deserved it!”
I started laughing.
Thomas joined me.
Then Eli laughed.
Even Emma did.
For several minutes, our house was loud with ridiculous arguments and paint-covered children.
No fear.
No police.
No secrets.
That night, Emma asked me a question.
“Are we still broken?”
I sat beside her.
“What do you think?”
She considered it.
“I think broken means something can’t work anymore.”
“That’s one meaning.”
“We work.”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“Different.”
“Yes.”
“But still.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Still.”
She touched Grace’s photograph beside her bed.
“I think Mommy would like Eli’s room.”
“She’d hate the blue.”
Emma gasped.
“She loved blue.”
“She tolerated blue.”
“You’re lying.”
I laughed.
Emma smiled.
Then her expression softened.
“I miss her.”
“I know.”
“But I’m happy too.”
I felt tears come.
“That’s allowed.”
She nodded.
May you like
“I didn’t know before.”
Neither did I.
