Chapter 7: What She Had Told the Children
The next morning, Jordan sat on the stairs with his knees pulled against his chest.
He was still wearing his pajamas when I came downstairs. His new basketball calculator lay beside him, forgotten.
“Couldn't sleep?”” I asked.
He shook his head.
I sat on the step below him.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked, “Is Isaiah going to leave?””
I looked at him.
“Why would you think that?””
“Mom said Dad might send him somewhere else if everybody keeps making trouble.””
My stomach tightened.
“Did she tell you that last night?””
Jordan nodded.
“She said Grandpa doesn't like our family. She said he only cares about Isaiah because Isaiah's mother left him money.””
I took a slow breath.
“Jordan, I want you to think carefully about what I'm going to say. Nobody is going to send Isaiah away because he asked for notebooks. He lives here with his father. He's part of this family.””
Jordan looked down at his hands.
“Then why does Mom say things like that?””
“I don't know, son. But grown-ups sometimes say things because they're afraid of facing something they've done.””
He picked at a loose thread on his pajama sleeve.
“Mom told me not to give Isaiah my old calculator. She said he had money from his mother, and if he needed something, he should pay for it himself.””
I felt a knot form in my chest.
“Did you believe her?””
He nodded.
“I thought Isaiah was being spoiled. Sometimes Dad takes him to the doctor, and Mom says she has to do everything for us while Dad spends money on him.””
Jordan swallowed.
“But Isaiah never asks for anything. He just sits there. I thought he didn't want to play with us.””
He looked toward the dining room.
“He used to help me with math.””
“What happened?””
“Mom said I shouldn't let him copy my work because he got special treatment already.””
I didn't know what to tell him.
Jordan was eleven. He was a child who had repeated the words of an adult he trusted. His mother had taught him to resent the one person in the house who had done the least to deserve it.
“Jordan, your mother is responsible for what she said. You aren't responsible for believing her when you were trying to understand things.””
He wiped his face with his sleeve.
“Is she a bad person?””
That was a harder question.
I could have told him yes. It would have been easy.
But a child should not be forced to choose between loving a parent and acknowledging the harm that parent has caused.
“Your mother has done things that were wrong,” I said.
“Very wrong. But you don't have to decide everything about her today. You do need to learn that taking something from another person and lying about it isn't okay.””
Jordan nodded slowly.
Then he whispered, “I want to say sorry to Isaiah.””
I put a hand on his shoulder.
“That's a good place to start.””
A few minutes later, we found Isaiah at the kitchen table, carefully arranging his new supplies inside his backpack.
The blue folders were stacked neatly. His notebooks were lined up by size. He had placed the markers in the front pocket.
Jordan approached slowly.
“Isaiah?””
Isaiah looked up.
“Yeah?””
Jordan's hands twisted together.
“I heard what Mom said about your money. And I believed her.””
Isaiah stared at him.
“Okay.””
“I shouldn't have.””
“It's fine.””
Jordan shook his head.
“No, it isn't.””
He glanced at the floor.
“I thought you didn't want to play with us because you always stayed in your room. But Mom said you thought you were better than us because your real mom left you money.””
Isaiah went very still.
“I never thought that.””
“I know that now.””
Jordan swallowed.
“I'm sorry.””
Isaiah looked at his cousin for a long moment.
Then he moved a blue folder aside and made room at the table.
“Do you want to help me put the pencil labels on?””
Jordan nodded.
They worked in silence for a while, passing the markers between them.
It wasn't forgiveness in some grand, instant sense.
It was two children trying to understand a mess they hadn't created.
Ava joined them ten minutes later, carrying the glitter pencils she'd received during the shopping trip.
She hesitated beside Isaiah's chair.
“Can I use your markers?””
Isaiah glanced at her.
“Sure.””
She climbed onto the chair and began coloring a picture of a rocket.
For the first time in days, the dining table looked like a place where children belonged.
Then Tasha entered.
She stopped at the doorway, watching the three children.
Her gaze settled on the markers.
“Those were expensive,” she said to Isaiah.
“Don't waste them.””
Isaiah's hand froze.
Jordan looked up.
“Mom, Grandpa bought those for him.””
“I can see that.””
“He's allowed to use them.””
Tasha stared at her son.
“Excuse me?””
Jordan's face reddened, but he didn't look away.
“I said he's allowed to use them.””
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Tasha picked up Ava's glitter pencils and placed them on the counter.
“Everyone upstairs. Now.””
Ava gathered her picture.
Jordan pushed back his chair.
Isaiah immediately began collecting his supplies.
“Leave them,” Tasha snapped at him.
He stopped.
“I'm just putting them away.””
“I said leave them.””
Malcolm appeared from the hallway.
“What's going on?””
Tasha turned toward him with sudden relief.
“Your father is encouraging the children to disrespect me. Jordan just told me what I can and can't do in my own house.””
Malcolm looked at Jordan.
“What happened?””
Jordan hesitated.
“Mom said Isaiah shouldn't use his markers because they cost money. I told her Grandpa bought them for him.””
Malcolm looked at his wife.
“That's what you're upset about?””
“I'm upset that everyone in this house thinks I'm the enemy!””
Malcolm lowered his voice.
“Tasha, nobody asked you to leave the family out of this. But we're not going to pretend nothing happened.””
“You're letting your father turn the children against me.””
“No. Your choices are affecting the children. That's different.””
She stared at him.
Then she pointed toward the bank folder on the kitchen counter.
“Have you shown that to anyone else?””
Malcolm's eyes narrowed.
“Why?””
“Because there are things in those records you don't understand.””
“Then explain them.””
“I can't do that here.””
“Why not?””
She looked toward Isaiah.
For a second, I thought she might finally admit everything.
Instead, she said, “Because Renee's death wasn't as simple as everyone thinks.””
The kitchen went silent.
Malcolm's face changed.
“What does Renee's death have to do with the money?””
Tasha pressed her lips together.
“You never asked the right questions.””
“What questions?””
“Ask her father.””
I stepped forward.
“Renee's father died before she did. What exactly are you talking about?””
Tasha's gaze flickered toward me.
Then she turned to Malcolm.
“Ask your insurance company. Ask why Renee's medical bills were paid. Ask what happened to the settlement.””
Malcolm stared at her.
“What settlement?””
She said nothing.
I remembered Renee's final months. The hospital visits. The appointments. The paperwork we had all signed when doctors said there was little more they could do.
There had been insurance forms, of course.
But a settlement?
Malcolm reached for the folder.
“You're going to explain this to me.””
Tasha shook her head.
“Not until you understand what I was trying to protect.””
“From what?””
She looked at the children.
Then at Malcolm.
May you like
Then she said the words that made the room feel suddenly colder.
“From finding out that Renee's money wasn't the only money that disappeared after she died.””
