Chapter 11 - Nicole’s Explanation
Nicole requested to speak with me through attorneys.
I said no.
Then months later, after therapy and charges, I changed.
One mediated meeting.
Evan did not attend.
Nicole entered in jail clothing.
No blue dress.
No makeup.
Her lip scar from engagement party healed.
She sat.
I asked:
“Why Lily?”
“Because she found bag.”
“You locked her in a storage trunk.”
“I panicked.”
“Why grab her hair?”
Nicole looked away.
“I was angry.”
“At four-year-old?”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
Then:
“Why Sophie?”
Nicole started crying.
“Madison was dying.”
“Answer.”
“She was dying.”
“That is not an answer.”
“You had two.”
There.
Same.
I stared.
“You really believed one of my daughters was spare.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was temporary.”
“How long?”
“Until transplant.”
“And after?”
Nicole covered face.
“I didn’t know how to give her back.”
“You could have walked into my house.”
“And said what? Surprise, your dead daughter is alive because we stole her?”
“Yes.”
That would have been better than four years.
Then:
“Why Marjorie?”
“Mom chose her.”
“Why did you keep using Sophie medically?”
“Because Madison relapsed.”
“Did Sophie matter to you?”
Nicole looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Because every time Madison got sick, nothing else mattered.”
Honest.
Horrible.
Then she said:
“You don't know what it’s like to hear your child might die.”
I laughed.
The mediator shifted.
I leaned forward.
“I spent four years believing mine had.”
Nicole went white.
There was no answer.
Then:
“You got to fight for Madison.”
She cried.
“I buried Sophie in my head because you told me she was dead.”
“I know.”
“No. You know words. You do not know the years.”
Silence.
Then I asked:
“Did you ever plan to tell?”
Nicole thought.
“No.”
That was perhaps worst.
Then:
“What would happen when Sophie was ten?”
“I don't know.”
“Fifteen?”
“I don't know.”
“Eighteen?”
She cried harder.
“I didn't think.”
No plan.
Only next crisis.
Then:
“Did Madison know?”
“No.”
“Did Scott?”
“No.”
“Did Marjorie?”
“No.”
“So every adult woman around you was either useful or kept ignorant.”
Nicole flinched.
I recognized Diane in myself for a second.
Harsh line.
True enough.
Then Nicole asked:
“Does Sophie hate me?”
“That is not your information.”
She nodded.
Boundary.
Then:
“Do you hate Madison?”
I stared.
“No.”
Nicole looked surprised.
“She got Sophie’s cells.”
“She was two.”
Then:
“I blame you.”
Good.
No child arithmetic.
Then Nicole whispered:
“I’m glad she lived.”
Madison.
Of course.
I said:
“I’m glad too.”
She stared.
I continued:
“That does not make what you did acceptable.”
Both.
Then:
“If you could go back?”
Nicole answered too quickly:
“I would ask you.”
“Would you accept no?”
Silence.
There.
She had learned nothing if no still impossible.
Then slowly:
“I don't know.”
At least honest.
Meeting ended.
I never had another before trial.
Then prosecutor told me Nicole had rejected plea requiring admission to kidnapping.
She wanted “custodial interference” language instead.
Because kidnapping sounded monstrous.
Maybe she needed softer word.
The state refused.
Evidence showed I never consented and she participated in removing/concealing Sophie for four years.
Trial set.
Diane’s case would follow.
Frank accepted a plea.
His testimony would matter.
May you like
The family was about to tell its secrets in public.
And Sophie was beginning to ask whether she would have to see the adults who stole her.
