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“Can I come in?” Winston asked, having already poked his head inside.
“Yes.” I swiped at the tears and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from my skirt.
The navy suit I wore was by an up-and-coming designer I didn’t recognize. Grace had picked it out.
Since the depositions had been taken that I knew she’d read, she no longer treated me like I smelled. Her husband, though, was another story. Wary around him, I followed him with my gaze as he came into the room.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, and my heart rate sped up. He looked and sounded too much like his son.
Of course something was wrong. It was a callous inquiry that didn’t deserve an answer.
Firming my shoulders, I asked, “Did you need something?”
“Martin is in my office,” Winston said, his expression and demeanor devoid of emotion as usual. Where Martin was prone to volatility, Winston was the opposite. An important difference, one that kept me from bolting after being informed his son was in the building.
I let him see the flash of anger and betrayal I felt. “You said you’d keep him away until I was gone.”
“I don’t mean to upset you.” Winston raised his hands in the air, but he didn’t touch me.
Even if I weren’t as skittish around him as I’d been at first, anyone could see how shell-shocked I was. Knowing this, he always kept a bubble of distance between us.
Grace, however, was another matter.
She seemed to feel guilty about what her son had done to me. Although she was gentle, careful, she touched me softly whenever an opportunity presented itself. That boded well for my daughter. In the back of my mind, I also wondered if Miranda had corroborated my side of events.
I nodded to acknowledge I’d heard Winston. “Is that the only reason he’s here?”
“He’s here to sign the paperwork relinquishing his parental rights.” Winston rubbed the back of his neck. “He also mentioned wanting you back. Would you—”
“Never,” I said quickly, cutting him off. “I willnevergo back to him.”
Some abuse victims had trouble severing ties with their abuser, but that wasn’t a battle I had to fight. At least, it wasn’t today. Now, it was only my own guilt and regret that tortured me.
“Right.” Winston nodded approvingly. “You and I and his mother agree. That’s our strength. Martin thinks he can finesse the details, but the facts are ...” Winston trailed off.
He knew what his son had done, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. That was fine. I didn’t want to rehash it either.
“At least he did one thing he was supposed to.” Winston held up a tiny key that I recognized. Martin had often taunted me with it.
Tears sprang into my eyes. It was all I could do to keep from clawing at the metal band around my neck.
“Can you get it off now?” I couldn’t keep the desperation from my tone. “Please.”
“Of course.”
Winston came forward slowly and inserted the key. Thankfully, his chilled fingers only brushed my skin briefly. I wept as the metal gave way and fell to the floor. I heard the thud but couldn’t stop the relieved tears from flowing.
Maybe I wasn’t as free as the gulls outside the window, but this was something, another step, a monumental one—like recounting the details of my captivity while a transcriptionist recorded them, and being interviewed by a crisis interventionalist. She’d taken pictures of my bruises and the scar.
The physical evidence and my testimony were being held in reserve should Martin attempt to change his mind about the terms of the custody deal, which only gave him brief supervised visits with my daughter. I wished he didn’t have any access to her, but wishes were from another time, for a girl who didn’t exist anymore.
Maybe wishes would be possible for my daughter if her life with her grandparents went well. I prayed it did, but I also tried not to think that far ahead. It overwhelmed me.
This day. One necessary task at a time. Do what I have to.
“He wants to see your signature on the paperwork before he’ll sign.” Winston was unable to look at me as I crumpled beneath the onslaught of what his son had done to me. “It’s a pointless delaying tactic. But if it makes him feel that he has some control, it would be best to indulge him. We’re almost at the end of this.”
My tears slowing, I just stared at him.
