Chapter 2 - The Petition
The paramedics stabilized Lily’s leg before moving her.
She screamed anyway.
I climbed into the ambulance beside her and held both hands.
“Mom.”
“I’m here.”
“Is it broken?”
I swallowed.
“I think so.”
She began crying again.
I hated telling truth.
But Lily had always known when adults lied to make themselves comfortable.
At Williamson Children’s Hospital, X rays confirmed a displaced fracture of the right tibia with damage close to the growth plate.
The skewer itself had caused a deep cut, but the break had come from the force of the strike and Lily collapsing badly afterward.
The orthopedic surgeon sat beside me.
That frightened me more than if he had stayed standing.
“She needs surgery tonight.”
“Will she walk?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“We expect her to walk. The question is whether the growth plate remains healthy.”
“What happens if it doesn’t?”
“The injured leg could grow more slowly. We would monitor and correct if necessary.”
I looked through the glass at Lily.
Nine years old.
Crying because an adult had decided respect could be enforced with pain.
“Do everything.”
“We will.”
While Lily was being prepared, a police officer took my statement.
Carla had been arrested at the house.
My parents had not.
Not yet.
Witnesses differed on what they had seen.
But no one disputed that Carla had held the skewer immediately afterward.
Then my phone began vibrating.
Patricia:
You should have handled this privately.
Frank:
Police are humiliating your sister.
Patricia:
Carla has her whole life ahead of her.
Then:
If you keep pushing this, we are filing first thing Monday.
I stared.
Filing what?
Another message came.
A photograph.
A legal document.
PETITION FOR EMERGENCY TEMPORARY CUSTODY OF MINOR CHILD LILY HART.
Petitioners:
Frank Reed.
Patricia Reed.
Respondent:
Naomi Hart.
My fingers turned cold.
The document was already drafted.
This was Saturday.
My mother had whispered:
We should have filed yesterday.
I enlarged the first page.
They claimed I was emotionally unstable.
That I worked excessive hours.
That I left Lily with “unrelated adults.”
That my grief over Matthew’s death remained unresolved.
That I abused alcohol.
That I made irrational decisions regarding Lily’s inheritance.
I stared at the last line.
Inheritance.
Before I could read more, the detective beside me noticed.
“What is that?”
I handed him the phone.
His name was Nathan Cole.
He read slowly.
“When did they prepare this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you know they were considering custody?”
“No.”
“Have they ever threatened it?”
“Not before today.”
“Any parenting dispute?”
“They hate boundaries.”
He looked at me.
“Explain.”
I told him.
After Matthew died, Patricia expected me to move back into their house.
I refused.
She wanted Lily overnight almost every weekend.
I allowed some.
Then she began undermining rules.
She let Carla take Lily to an adult lake party without asking me.
After that, I stopped unsupervised overnights for two months.
Patricia called it punishment.
I called it parenting.
Frank took her side.
They eventually apologized enough that I slowly allowed some visits again.
Detective Cole asked:
“Any substance abuse?”
“No.”
“Arrests?”
“No.”
“Child protective services?”
I opened my mouth.
Then remembered.
Six months earlier, a county social worker had called after an anonymous report claiming I left Lily home alone after midnight.
It was false.
Lily had been sleeping at my best friend Maya’s home while I attended a hospital staffing emergency.
Maya had known Lily since birth.
The report was screened and closed.
At the time Patricia comforted me.
“Someone must be jealous of your business.”
Now I felt sick.
“Actually, there was an anonymous report.”
Cole wrote.
“Do you have paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“Save it.”
Then my mother sent another message.
If you cooperate with prosecution, we will make sure a judge hears everything.
Another:
Grandparents are not powerless, Naomi.
Then:
You are choosing this.
I forwarded every message.
Detective Cole said:
“These may matter if anyone is trying to pressure you not to participate.”
A nurse opened the door.
“Ms. Hart?”
Everything else disappeared.
“Lily?”
“She’s in recovery.”
I rushed.
Lily looked tiny against white sheets.
Her right leg was wrapped and immobilized.
Her first words were:
“Is Aunt Carla mad?”
I leaned over.
“You don’t worry about Carla.”
“Grandma said I was bad.”
“When?”
“Before ambulance.”
“What did she say?”
“She said if I made you call police, you’d lose me.”
My chest tightened.
“Anything else?”
Lily’s eyes fluttered.
“She said maybe I should live with her anyway.”
Then she fell asleep.
I sat there holding her hand.
A few minutes later, Detective Cole returned.
He looked different.
More focused.
“We recovered a witness video.”
“Tessa?”
“Yes.”
“Does it show what happened?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Then he said:
“But that’s not the only thing.”
“What?”
“Tessa started recording several minutes before the assault.”
My pulse climbed.
“She captured your mother discussing you.”
“With who?”
“Carla and Frank.”
May you like
He placed his phone on the table.
“Mrs. Hart, your mother was trying to get you angry on camera.”
