Chapter 41
Celine
Despite the frustration that came along with my argument with Josh, I put on a smile and enjoyed the morning with the kids. We baked banana bread and ate it in our jammies while playing Monopoly on the living room floor. Then Ellie put on music, and we had a dance party.
I needed to mark this moment. Recognize what I’d been through. It was time to start living my life again. To be the mom my kids deserved.
Maplewood was home now, and I was ready to embrace it without fear.
After we’d cleaned up the game and the kitchen, I left the kids playing to go for a quick run. Muscle memory kicked in right away, and I headed for my usual hill. But halfway there, I stopped and scanned the property.
The farm was safe. The house was safe. This town was safe.
I didn’t have to sprint up the hill behind my house. I didn’t have to keep my eye on it every second that I ran.
So I turned and headed toward the maple trees, determined to enjoy the cool air and this beautiful pace. My life wasn’t about danger and paranoia anymore, so it was time to retrain my nervous system.
I’d overreacted earlier, but Josh’s overprotectiveness had triggered me, sending me into fight-or-flight mode.
Head down, watching the path in front of me, I pushed myself hard, relishing the burn of the cold air in my lungs.
Josh was a good man. And I was in love with him.
I hadn’t planned on this. I never could have imagined I’d fall head over heels for this quirky town and my grumpy landlord, but here I was, and I owed it to myself and my kids to explore the possibilities.
I’d been given an opportunity to heal. To grow.
And to become the version of myself that Donny never allowed me to be.
I headed back to the house at a slow jog. My breath was still coming quickly when a strange car came into sight. It was parked in front of the cottage, and it wasn’t Stella’s. I sped up, my mind racing. Who did I know in Maplewood with a car like that?
It was a silver Mercedes. And as I got closer, the plates were visible.
Maine plates.
My stomach dropped.
Heart in my throat, I sprinted into the house. As I threw the door open, I was met with the last person on earth I wanted to see.
Phyllis.
Standing in my kitchen.
She was taller than I remembered. Broader too. Built like a woman who’d spent her entire life believing that space would always be made for her. Her hair was swept back in a style that didn’t move when she did, the color of it the same shade as Donny’s.
She moved with the confidence of a woman used to being obeyed, her shoulders squared, chin lifted, gaze level and unblinking.
“This is certainly an upgrade for you,” she sneered, taking in the kitchen.
She pointed to the clutter on the kitchen table, the diamonds on her fingers catching the light, sharp little flashes that felt like warnings. “Still a terrible housekeeper, though.”
My instincts had taken over, my eyes searching for my kids. Ellie stood blocking the entrance to the living room, with Maggie and Julian hovering behind her.
“These children are terrible listeners. I told them I’m taking them on a trip, and they’ve been so ungrateful.”
Ellie met my eye, panic rolling off her. The kids hadn’t laid eyes on their grandmother in almost two years. Not after the bogus lawsuit and several incidents of harassment. Not since I’d gotten a restraining order against her.
Phyllis didn’t pace, didn’t fidget. She just eyed me with contempt.
“You need to leave,” I said. My tone was calm and cool, despite the way I was falling apart inside.
She sighed, like I was a naughty child. “I just got here.”
I stood a little taller. “You’re not welcome.”
With a wave of her hand, she dismissed my protests. “That’s not your decision to make.”
My chest tightened, the air in the room thinning. Dammit.
What made Phyllis dangerous wasn’t her brute strength, it was her certainty.
The way she stood in my kitchen, lording over the place, disgusted by the drawings on the fridge and the kids’ water bottles in the sink.
The way she looked at me like I was beneath her. Replaceable.
That was the threat. Not violence. Erasure.
The quiet conviction that she could show up in my home and take it apart simply because she felt like it.
“You always had a flair for the dramatic.” She picked up Ellie’s most recent science test and studied it before placing it back on the table.
Then she picked up one of Julian’s Lego creations. A robot version of our van, complete with minifigs of the four of us inside.
“Put that down,” I said. “And leave.”
Lip curled, she locked eyes with me and dropped it on the floor, where it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.
Julian gasped and then began to cry.
“I see you’re still indulging him. It only fuels weakness.”
My vision went red. Bringing the kids into this was a step too far. I had no idea why she was here, but I wouldn’t tolerate it anymore.
“Leave.” I took a step toward her, pulling my shoulders back.
She did the same, pushing me with both hands, sending me stumbling backward. “You think you’re protecting the children,” she said, her voice almost kind. “But you’re isolating them. Keeping them from their real family.”
“She is our family,” Ellie protested, one arm around Julian, who had buried his head in her side, still weeping. “Keep your hands off her.”
“She’s your family for now.” Phyllis opened her Chanel purse and pulled out a handgun, then placed it on top of the table with a steady hand.
My whole body trembled, a familiar sense of panic setting in. But I couldn’t fall apart. I couldn’t break down. I needed to be strong for my kids.
So with a deep breath in, I steadied myself.
“Kids,” I said brightly. “Why don’t you go get your suitcases?”
“Mom,” Ellie protested, tears in her eyes, her focus on the table.
I silently willed her to look at me, and when she did, I prayed she understood me.
Take Maggie and Julian and hide, I told her silently. Just like we practiced.
I made eye contact with each of them, sending them assurances that it would be okay. “TTG,” I said. “Go get them.”
Ellie reached for Julian’s hand. “Where did you put them?” Ellie asked in a calm tone that meant she got my silent messages. “I forgot.”
“In the garage,” I said.
Phyllis looked between us.
“We can go on a trip with Nana,” I chirped. “But the luggage is out there.”
Ellie nodded quickly. “Okay. We’ll do that. Julian?” she asked brightly, “Do you want to get your dinosaur suitcase?”
She pushed her siblings toward the back door, keeping her body between them and Phyllis. She had recognized our phrase. We’d planned it out a long time ago, when her therapist suggested that having a plan in case of danger might help to ease her anxiety. So we had keywords.
This house didn’t have a garage. None of our crappy rentals had. Not that Phyllis seemed to have noticed. I just needed to distract her long enough to get them out the door and away from here.
Ellie looked back at me as she closed the door, her face a mask of fear that made my heart clench.
My sweet girl. So strong and brave. She had been asked to carry a far bigger burden than she should.
I hated myself for it. That I couldn’t keep her safe.
That I’d failed to give her the childhood she deserved.
“You know you can’t be here,” I said to Phyllis, moving toward the sink so when she looked at me, her back was to the door the kids had just stepped out of. I filled a water glass just to keep her attention on me and draw this out.
“I’ve been very patient,” she said, “I let the courts handle things. I let the system run its course. But look where that’s gotten us.” She scanned the house, her eyes hard. “You, living like a scared little mouse. Teaching your children to be afraid. To reject their real family.”
“I’m not hiding,” I growled, the water in my glass trembling along with my hand. “And don’t say a word about my children.”
“They are my blood.”
And that fact pained me every damn day. “They are my kids.”
“You are replaceable,” she said softly, running her fingertips over the tabletop, reminding me that the gun was within her reach.
My heart slammed against my ribs, my mind racing, at a loss for how to handle this, how to get out of it unscathed.
“Women like you love to make yourselves the victim, weaponize your suffering.”
My old instincts rose up. The persistent urge to explain, to justify, to prove myself.
Instead I crushed them. I owed this woman nothing.
“Leave.” My hand was shaking hard enough to cause some of the water to spill over the rim of the glass.
“I don’t think you understand what’s going to happen,” she said, her demeanor unnervingly calm. “My son may not be free today, but he will be soon enough. In a matter of months, he’ll leave that godforsaken place.”
“No,” I said. “He’s being prosecuted for violating the restraining order and for witness intimidation. He’s going to get more time added to his sentence.”
She waved me off. “He’s getting out soon,” she said, the only sign of her distress a slight flare of her nostrils.
“And when he does, he will need his children. And a clean slate.” She looked from the gun to me again.
“You complicate that.” The cruel smile that spread across her face made my blood chill.
“You don’t get to keep them, Celine. You don’t get to win. ”
That thread was enough to lift the fog of fear shrouding me. My body hummed with fury, burning off the last of my hesitation. “You will leave this house and never come back.”
“Oh, I will leave this house when I’m ready,” she mused. “But you won’t. You have to be punished. You destroyed a good man. You destroyed our family. Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”
I gripped my glass and covertly scanned the area near me, weighing my options.