14. Lillian
The screen doorshuts behind me as I step out on the front stoop and walk a few steps into the grass. My heart is in my throat as I pick up the phone. “Hey, Yasmine. Everything okay?”
“Hey Lillian. I’m sorry to call you on a Sunday like this.”
“It’s fine. What’s up?” I ask, toeing the grass and biting my lip.
“I just got a call from a clerk in Judge Whittington’s office,” she says, talking about the judge assigned to our custody case. “She said they were contacted by Talia after her missed appointment. There was an emergency that she couldn’t get away from. The judge reviewed her claim and is granting her another supervised visit without a mark against her.”
Any hope I had that this would be the call telling me the judge is granting me custody of Grace vanishes.
“Oh,” is all I can say.
“It’s this Saturday. Can you guys get there at eleven a.m? Usual place,” she rattles off, and I don’t think I’m imagining the regret in her voice.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “We can do that.”
“Great, I’ll let them know.”
Great.
“Well, I’m with my family so…” All I want is to end this call.
“Wait. There is one other thing,” she rushes out before I have a chance to hang up.
“What’s that?” You want my first born, too?
“Okay. So I don’t know this part for sure, but I wanted to make you aware. To be sure you’re prepared…but it’s coming up on six months of successful visitations. Visits without incidents, that is to say. Historically, that is when a judge will allow a change of circumstance hearing.”
“Change of circumstance? As in…” I don’t finish my sentence. Please don’t let it be what I think it is.
“Yeah. The judge will hear her case for reunification. Talia could get temporary custody back of Grace. For a trial period, granted she passes all her drug tests and home visits.”
This isn’t happening.
Tears start to build in my eyes, and my throat gets painfully tight. In my mind, there was never any real chance of me losing Grace. The life she’s had with me is infinitely better than anything her birth mother could or would give her. Her birth mother who has taken four years to stay sober long enough to be given a hearing for custody. And even that is questionable. There are plenty of ways to pass a drug test. Has nobody watched TV?
It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be able to happen like this.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I manage to choke out, but the pitch in my voice is off, and I’m sure Yasmine can tell. “I gotta go.”
“Okay. Keep your head up. It’s not over yet.”
I nod like she can see it through the phone, but I’m unable to say anything else as I hang up. One tear falls. Then another. I stand there in the yard, staring at the sky and silently sobbing.
Gentle hands rest on my shoulders, and I jump. They turn me to face them, and I see Lincoln staring at me in concern. When he sees the tears, he pulls me into a tight hug, and my arms go around his middle automatically.
“Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” he whispers as he gently runs one hand over my hair.
It takes a second to be able to speak through the lump in my throat. Even then, it’s more of incoherent ramblings. “I’m…going to…lose her, Lincoln.”
His grip tightens on me. “You won’t. I promise, Lil. We’ll fight for her. Together.”
For some reason, his words do soothe me. Together.
More people fighting in our corner can only help, right? Especially with the money and connections that must come with Lincoln’s family. Maybe my mom is right. I’ve been going along with what my lawyer Peter has said. Believed him and trusted him without much resistance because there was no way in hell a judge would find someone more fit to be Grace’s mom than me.
Not anymore.
Tomorrow, I’ll start looking for a better lawyer. Even if I have to go bankrupt to do it.
After the phone call from Yasmine, I wasn’t in the mood to socialize. Lincoln and I walked back in, said our goodbyes, and I grabbed Grace, and we came home.
In all the excitement of the weekend, we took the rest of the day to relax and simply be together. Grace got to pick a movie for us to watch together when we got home. Much to Lincoln’s surprise and delight, she picked Shrek. It’s not her all time favorite, but any Disney movie is going to keep her attention.
Lincoln’s sitting upright with one arm draped across the back of the couch, I’m snuggled up into his side, and Grace is laying next to me with her head in my lap. Very quickly into the movie as I was gently finger combing her blonde curls, she fell asleep and has been napping ever since. The sleepover last night must have worn her out.
It’s still only early afternoon at this point. When Shrek was finished, Lincoln threw on some other movie, but I’m not really watching it.
My eyes are glued to the TV, but all I see is Grace walking into the center on Saturday for her visit and being walked out, right to her birth mom’s car. I see her stuffy sitting in the backseat of my car because she forgot it and never came back for it. I see Grace trapped in a loveless, run-down home, with no nutritious food and no water while her birth mom does drugs in another room.
Every nightmare scenario I can think of filters through my brain like a picture show. It wears on me quickly, and my eyes start to droop.
“Wake up, Lil.” a quiet voice says, and I can feel myself coming to, but I don’t want to open my eyes.
“Mmmnnmm,” I mumble and bury my face into the hard muscle beneath me. The shirt I’m laying on smells like expensive cologne—hints of fragrances I can’t identify.
“It’s getting late, Lil. I have to head back to Phoenix and get ready for work tomorrow.”
That gets me moving. I lift up gently, so as not to wake Grace, but find that she isn’t laying on me anymore.
No, I can hear her playing in her room while I continued to nap on Lincoln.
“She hasn’t been up long. Thirty minutes or so,” he tells me and then grins. “She woke right up, saw you were asleep, and told me to be quiet so you could nap more. That’s a hell of a kid you’ve raised, Lil. You did good.”
His praise for me warms my heart almost as much as hearing him talk about Grace with so much affection already. If there was a part of my mind that thought he’d reject me this time around because I have a kid, that’s quieted.
“You’re leaving?” I ask on a yawn while I try not to let my disappointment show. Obviously, he has to get back to Phoenix. That’s where he lives. It’s where he works. He can’t hole up here with me on a little make-up sexcation.
“Yeah, I have a few things to take care of. But I can come back. Or you and Grace can come stay with me. I have plenty of room. Maybe we switch off weekends?” he says in a low, confident voice.
Still, I have to ask. “Lincoln…”
“Lillian,” he mocks in the same cautious tone I just used. I laugh.
“Stop, I’m serious.” I give him a gentle punch to the arm. “We’re jumping back into this so fast. A kid is… well, it’s a big deal Lincoln, and we weren’t exactly together for that long the first time around. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into. Because there’s no going back. If Grace gets connected to you, you don’t get to walk away from her. Even if you want to walk away from me.” I’m rambling now, nerves getting the best of me.
“Are you done?” He smirks, and I nod, shutting my mouth.
“I know you guys are a package deal, Lillian. Let me make this clear: I love kids, and I’m thirty-four years old. I’m not still looking to sow my wild oats. I want to settle down. I want a family. And I’ve wanted that with you since I met you. Have you forgotten the ring already?”
“Trying my best,” I mutter under my breath.
“Brat.” He flicks my thigh. “My point is…I’m in this. I understand that may be hard to believe right now, and that’s nobody’s fault but my own. Only time can fix that, and I’m going to be there every day to remind you.”
The movie plays in the background as I stare at Lincoln in a stunned silence. I had expected an obligatory, I understand. The heated declaration took me by surprise.
“Linc, Linc, look at this!” Grace calls, running into the room with her yo-yo she’s become obsessed with recently.
“Let’s see, munchkin,” Lincoln laughs, giving Grace his undivided attention. It’s unbelievable the amount of joy I get from seeing them interact. The animated way she throws the yo-yo down. The way Lincoln claps and praises her when it only comes up halfway. The way she comes to the couch and wiggles in between the two of us and then asks for his phone to play games on, not mine.
Our eyes meet over the top of blonde curls, and he tilts his head as if to say, see?
Fine.
Maybe I’ll let myself believe him. I’ll push aside all the fool me once thoughts that keep trying to worm their way in and see where this takes me.
A little while later—because Grace was able to sucker another few hours out of him—after we’ve all had dinner, and I put Grace down for bed, I’m standing outside Lincoln’s car, saying goodbye.
“You know,” I mutter sarcastically, “I didn’t get a chance to say anything earlier, but this is ridiculous.”
He laughs, a true, deep belly laugh. “What? You don’t like my car?”
“A Lincoln? Could you be any more cliche?”
He looks off in the distance, pretends to think, and answers. “No, I don’t think so. But I’ll try for you.”
“You’re such a dork. Get out of here, Grandpa. It’s past your bedtime.” He throws a hand up to his chest like he’s been wounded and then pulls me into a hug.
“So, you two will come up Friday? Stay the night with me?” he mutters and kisses the top of my head.
“Yeah,” I grin into his chest. We talked about it at dinner when I told Grace she had another playdate with Yasmine on Saturday. Lincoln had asked her if she wanted to do a sleepover the night before, and she got so worked up she spilt her glass of milk on the table.
“Good.” He tilts my chin up with a finger and plants a gentle kiss on my lips. Once. Twice. Three times. “Fuck, this is going to be the longest week of my life.”
As I watch him pull out of my driveway and turn to head back inside, I couldn’t agree more.