Chapter 5 - The Name She Was Forbidden to Say
“You don't have to lie about your mother.”
I knelt beside Molly's chair.
She looked down at her ice cream.
“But Mommy said people get confused.”
“About what?”
“About who belongs to who.”
I felt something tighten in my chest.
Across the room, Luca was listening.
He approached quietly.
“Molly, can I tell you something?”
She nodded.
“Grown-ups are supposed to explain things to children. Children aren't supposed to keep grown-ups' secrets.”
Molly considered that.
“Even if it's a surprise?”
He smiled faintly.
“Birthday surprises are different.”
“Oh.”
She looked relieved.
Then she asked, “So I can say Vanessa is my mommy?”
Luca glanced toward his fiancée.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Vanessa turned away.
I wanted her to say it herself.
Just once.
To look at her daughter and tell her she was proud to be her mother.
But she couldn't seem to find the words.
Molly slid off her chair.
“Can I get my folder?”
I helped her open the yellow suitcase.
She pulled out a sheet of construction paper.
At the top, in large uneven letters, she'd written:
MY FAMILY.
Below were three stick figures.
A woman in a red dress.
A man wearing a gray suit.
And a little girl with brown curls.
The people were holding hands.
Except someone had rubbed out the hands connecting the little girl to the adults.
The paper was worn almost thin.
Molly pointed to the woman.
“That's Mommy.”
Then to the man.
“That's Daddy.”
She touched the empty space between them.
“My teacher said families can look different.”
I smiled.
“She's right.”
Molly turned the paper over.
“I made another one.”
On the back, she'd drawn a yellow house.
Inside stood one little girl.
The windows were blue.
There were no adults.
“Is this Aunt Lila's house?” I asked.
Molly nodded.
“Mommy said she has a nice room for me.”
“Have you been there before?”
“Christmas.”
“Did you like it?”
She shrugged.
“Aunt Lila works a lot.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who stays with you when she's working?”
“Sometimes the lady next door.”
I looked toward Luca.
He was watching us carefully.
Molly folded the drawing.
“Can I take Buttons if I go?”
“Of course,” I said.
Then I caught myself.
Because I had no right to promise what would happen.
And neither did anybody else until Molly had a safe, dependable arrangement.
Luca seemed to understand.
“Sweetheart, nobody is making you leave tonight. We're going to work out what happens next.”
Molly nodded.
But she still looked worried.
I helped her put the drawing away.
As I closed the folder, a small photograph slipped onto the carpet.
I picked it up.
It showed Molly sitting on a man's shoulders at a fall festival.
She was younger.
Maybe four.
Her hair was tied in two crooked ponytails.
Michael was smiling so broadly that I barely recognized him.
Molly reached for it.
“That's when Daddy took me to the pumpkin place.”
Her voice brightened.
“He bought me a big one.”
I glanced toward Michael.
He had been watching.
Now he approached slowly.
“Molly?”
She held up the photograph.
“Remember?”
He nodded.
“I do.”
“You said it wouldn't fit in the car.”
He gave a small laugh.
“It almost didn't.”
For a few seconds, he sounded like an ordinary father remembering a good day.
Then Molly looked at him.
“Why don't we go anymore?”
His smile disappeared.
I watched him struggle.
“Things got complicated, sweetheart.”
Molly frowned.
“Because of Evelyn?”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“No, honey.”
The little girl looked up.
“I thought maybe you didn't want me.”
Evelyn's eyes filled.
“That's not true.”
Michael looked ashamed.
Evelyn continued.
“Your dad and I have talked about you. I wanted to meet you when everybody was ready.”
Molly smiled faintly.
“Do you like strawberry pancakes?”
Evelyn laughed.
“I love them.”
“Daddy makes them shaped like hearts.”
Michael looked down.
And I realized something.
This little girl wasn't asking for presents.
She was asking for Saturday mornings.
The kind of ordinary things children remember long after expensive gifts disappear.
Mrs. Carter brought a small ice pack for my wrist.
When she noticed the swelling, she insisted that Daniel arrange for me to be examined by a medical professional that evening.
I protested.
“Please, Mrs. Carter, I don't want to cause more trouble.”
She looked at me over her glasses.
“Grace Bennett, you've already had quite enough trouble for one day.”
Luca overheard.
“Your medical care is covered, Grace. And your job is secure.”
Vanessa opened her mouth.
He turned toward her.
“That isn't negotiable.”
My eyes filled.
I thought about my grandmother.
How afraid I'd been of losing the money that helped keep her in her home.
And how close I'd come to leaving a frightened child behind because somebody had threatened my paycheck.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Luca shook his head.
“You should never have been put in that position.”
I returned to Molly's suitcase.
She wanted to find Buttons's little blue sweater.
While searching, I noticed an ivory envelope beneath the school folder.
It was addressed in Vanessa's handwriting.
Wedding Seating Arrangements.
I held it out to Vanessa.
“Miss Bellini, this was in Molly's bag.”
She reached for it.
But the flap had come loose, and a small place card slipped out.
I bent to retrieve it.
Then stopped.
The card was beautifully printed.
Gold lettering.
Cream-colored paper.
Exactly like the samples Vanessa had been choosing for her wedding.
At the top was Molly's name.
Underneath was the family designation Vanessa intended to use when the wedding guests arrived.
I read it twice.
Then looked toward the little girl.
Because the card didn't say Daughter of Vanessa Bellini.
It said:
May you like
MOLLY — DAUGHTER OF LILA BELLINI.
And the date printed on the card was nearly three months away.
