Chapter 11 - Forty-One Hours

On Thursday morning, Lila moved fast. She confirmed the hearing notice, filed our response, and arranged for Ben and Frank to provide statements. Tessa was still unreachable.

"We have strong reasons to oppose emergency guardianship," she told me. "But don't assume Celia will stop simply because the facts are against her."

At work, someone had taped a printout of Celia's neighborhood post to the door of my office. Beneath it, in thick black marker, were the words CHILD ABUSER.

My supervisor, Mr. Keene, pulled it down before anyone else could see. He offered to record the incident and keep strangers from contacting me at work.

"You don't have to explain your private life," he said.

I almost cried because the sentence was so ordinary and so kind.

By noon I had a call from Lucy's pediatrician. Her office had received a request for Lucy's records bearing a release I had supposedly signed. The signature was close to mine but the final letter looped the wrong way.

"I didn't authorize it," I said.

The receptionist agreed to flag the disputed form and follow office procedures before releasing anything. I requested a copy and sent it to Lila.

At Dana's, Lucy asked whether she should wear her nicest dress for court.

"You're not going tomorrow," I explained. "The adults will talk to the judge."

"Will Grandma tell him I was bad?"

"She may say things that aren't true. Other people will get to speak, too."

Lucy studied a piece of toast. "I used to think grown-ups always knew."

"Sometimes grown-ups are wrong. Even when they're very sure."

I hated that she'd learned the lesson before second grade.

At four, Ben sent me a copy of his correction statement. It said plainly that he had not witnessed neglect, that he had signed Celia's earlier statement without verifying its claims, and that he now opposed granting her guardianship. He said he was seeking counseling.

It was a beginning, but I remembered the signature on the school form. Beginnings needed actions.

At six, Tessa finally called from an unfamiliar number.

"Mom locked me out of the apartment," she said, trying not to sob. "Owen told her I'd sent you the original video."

"Where are you?"

"At the gas station near the highway. I have the kids with me."

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Then a truck horn blared and she spoke in a whisper.

"She's here. Mara, she brought somebody with her."