Page 100 of When The Noise Stops

I got it.

"Let me talk to her," I said.

Charlotte looked at me, but stepped back. Maggie's discomfort was all over her.

"Your husband doesn't want Gabby," I said.

"You're out here hoping he doesn't come to the door."

"You don't know anything about my marriage."

"You're standing here whispering. Sign the paper so Knox can give her the home she deserves, since you can't. Don't continue to be a bad mother."

Maggie's throat moved.

"You don't get to talk to me like that at my house."

"It's not your house. It's his house. That's why he put you and Gabby out of it. You left her. You went back to a man who put you both out once again. You won't come get her, and you won't sign, and Knox is sitting on a problem with your name on it. Either you want that girl or you want this man."

"You don't understand—"

"You're right. I don't," I lowered my voice.

"Because if a man told me my child couldn't live in his house, there wouldn't be enough dick on this earth to make me choose him."

Ronny made a tiny noise behind me.

Maggie looked away.

"You left Gabby with Knox because you knew he'd take care of her. You knew he'd love her. Sign the paper."

She stood there for a long second before she spoke.

"If I sign," she said, "you don't come back here. None of you."

Charlotte turned a page.

A car moved somewhere behind the hedge. Maggie flinched.

"Where do I sign?"

"Hold on."

Ronny waved toward the RV. The notary she'd paid got out with a stamp and a blank expression. He explained what was needed. Maggie ducked back in the house and came out in what felt like less than a minute. The notary checked Maggie's identification in the porch light and watched her sign. I felt kind of sad, watching her sign her daughter away like she was transferring the title to a car.

Maggie's hand shook on the last page.

"You don't come back," she said.

"You don't call this house."

Charlotte took the folder and closed it.

The door opened a crack behind her. A man's voice asked who it was.

I saw fear flash across her face.

I knew what it looked like when a woman was afraid of what waited on the other side of her own front door, and I felt sorry for her too.