Chapter 11 - The Cemetery
Marcus drove to the cemetery alone.
He knew he should wait for the investigator.
He knew he should not contaminate memories or chase answers emotionally.
But he needed to stand where Nia had stood.
Alicia’s grave sat beneath a maple tree on a gentle hill.
Marcus had chosen the spot himself.
He found a crushed juice box near the stone.
Probably old.
Probably unrelated.
It still made his stomach turn.
He sat on the grass.
“I missed it,” he whispered.
The wind moved through the branches.
He thought of all the ordinary evenings he had come home late.
All the times Simone said Nia was moody.
All the times he had told his daughter, “Be nice. Simone does a lot for this family.”
He had mistaken silence for peace.
His phone rang.
Dana.
“The emergency order was granted for Nia,” she said. “Temporary. No unsupervised contact with Simone pending review.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Good.”
“Caleb’s situation is more complicated.”
“Because I’m not his legal father.”
“Yes.”
“What about Evan?”
“His petition is pending. Child services may recommend placement depending on their assessment.”
Marcus hated every word that reduced Caleb to a file.
When he returned to Denise’s house, Nia was at the dining table doing homework.
A sandwich sat beside her.
Half eaten.
Marcus sat across from her.
“Can I ask about the cemetery?”
She froze.
He immediately said, “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
She looked at her hands.
“I asked if we could stop.”
“Why?”
“It was Mom’s birthday.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I wanted to leave flowers.”
“What happened?”
“Simone said I loved a dead person more than a living one.”
He closed his eyes.
“She told me to prove Mom could take care of me.”
Marcus’s hands curled under the table.
“She left you?”
Nia nodded.
“How long?”
“I don’t know. My phone was in the car.”
“Were you scared?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Nia’s face crumpled.
“Because when she came back, she hugged me and cried. She said she was sorry. She said if I told you, Caleb would lose his mom too.”
Marcus reached across the table.
Nia grabbed his hand with both of hers.
Then she whispered, “Dad… there’s one more thing.”
Marcus’s heart sank.
“What?”
“She made me write letters.”
“What letters?”
“To you.”
Nia got up and opened her backpack.
She handed him three envelopes.
Each one had his name on it.
Inside were pages written in Nia’s handwriting.
I’m sorry I make things hard.
I think I should live somewhere else.
Maybe you and Simone would be happier without me.
Marcus read the last sentence twice.
Then he saw a fourth envelope.
Unopened.
May you like
Addressed not to him.
To a private boarding school in Vermont.
