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Aleks starts the car up again. I watch in silence as the girl stops and bends to pick something up in the street. She holds it up to the light and shoves it in her pocket. Her step picks up and she smiles.
I remember being a little girl myself, afraid of my father and scared of my mother. I tried to please them and never learned that I couldn’t, that it was never in my control and never would be.
In minutes, we’re back on the main road, and not far from little Ivy.
When he takes the turn down the street to her house, he asks me, “Are you ready?”
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aleks
My girls are asleep.
My girls.
I barely knew Harper a few weeks ago and didn’t know Ivy existed, and today, I’d do anything to keep them as peaceful as they are now. When I peeked in on them, Harper’s lips were softly parted, little Ivy’s hand resting in hers. I lifted a blanket and placed it over them so they didn’t get cold, and let them rest.
I pace the room, looking out the window. We set Ivy’s little toddler bed up in the small room next to the master, which has a connecting door that closes between the two rooms.
She came with us willingly, and her foster parents — Isaac and Abigail Brooks — were brave about it. Isaac, a local minister, shook my hand but said very little. We paid a good sum to keep everything off record, and I pulled some strings to keep our names out of anything official, but I’ll make it all up to them.
The Brooks family’s home was modest and clean, with one simple car in the driveway and evidence of older children — a bike leaning on a porch rail and a forgotten jump rope nearby.
I feared Ivy would put up more of a fuss leaving, making it harder for Harper, but she didn’t. Sometimes, kids know. I have no doubt she’ll miss where she was, but she knew Harper was her mother.
I’m relieved, anyway. It’s one less battle to fight.
Abigail cried but quietly handed her to Harper.
“I’m sorry,” Harper said. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be. I prayed for this. She’s supposed to be with you, but we’ll miss her.”
It’ll take time, but building any new family does. I should know.
My mind reels from everything I’ve learned and experienced in the past few days.
Tonight, we begin our new lives as a small, nuclear family.
Tomorrow, Polina comes to help while we interview nannies.
My phone beeps with a text.
Mikhail: Sent us home. Early labor, and she isn’t ready yet.
I pity anyone in that hospital that didn’t deliver a baby to Mikhail. I pity Aria for dealing with his belligerent ass.
Still, I can’t help but gloat.
tf are you talking about?
Got a kid, man. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.
The phone rings. Of course. He’s not gonna wait until tomorrow.
“Yeah?”
