Chapter 1: The Suitcase in the Rain
My mother abandoned my six-year-old daughter in the middle of a rainstorm, then drove away believing she had finally won. What she didn't know was that the little girl she'd just left crying in our driveway was carrying the one thing that could expose the lie she'd been telling about me.
The pink suitcase hit the concrete so hard that one of its wheels snapped off.
“Stay here!”” Loretta commanded.
My daughter, Lily, stood frozen beneath the pouring rain, her tiny fingers clutching the hood of her pink raincoat. Water streamed down her cheeks, mixing with tears until it was impossible to tell which was which.
“Grandma?”” Lily whispered.
Loretta didn't turn around.
She adjusted the collar of her elegant floral blouse, tucked her expensive handbag beneath her arm, and marched toward her black SUV. Her heels clicked against the wet driveway as if she were walking across a hotel lobby instead of abandoning a child.
“Grandma, wait!”” Lily cried.
Loretta opened the driver's door.
“Please! I don't want to stay here!””
For one brief second, Loretta looked back.
There was no tenderness in her face. No hesitation. Not even the smallest flicker of regret.
“You should have thought about that earlier,” she said.
Then she climbed into the SUV and slammed the door.
The engine roared to life.
Lily ran after the vehicle, her little shoes splashing through puddles.
“GRANDMA! DON'T LEAVE ME!””
The SUV reversed, turned sharply, and disappeared through the iron gates.
Lily stumbled.
Her knees struck the driveway.
The pink suitcase tipped onto its side, spilling a stuffed rabbit and a small bundle of clothes into the rain.
For several seconds, Lily didn't move. She simply stared at the empty road, her shoulders shaking beneath her soaked raincoat.
Then she began to scream.
I heard her from inside the house.
At first, I thought someone had fallen. I was standing in the kitchen, rinsing a coffee mug, when a desperate cry cut through the sound of the rain.
“MOMMY!””
The mug slipped from my fingers and shattered in the sink.
I ran.
I didn't bother grabbing an umbrella. I didn't stop to put on shoes. I tore through the front door and raced down the steps, my dark jacket whipping against my legs.
“Lily!””
She turned toward me.
The moment she recognized my face, she scrambled to her feet and threw herself into my arms.
“Mommy!””
I dropped to my knees on the wet concrete and wrapped both arms around her.
She was trembling violently.
“Baby, baby, I've got you.”” I pressed her against my chest, rubbing her back with both hands.
“You're safe. I'm here.””
She buried her face in my neck.
“She left me.””
I pulled back just enough to see her face.
Her lips were quivering. Her eyelashes were clumped together with rain. A thin red mark crossed one cheek, though I couldn't tell whether she'd been crying hard enough to cause it or whether something else had happened.
I held her face gently between my palms.
“Who left you here, sweetheart?””
Lily looked toward the gates.
“Grandma.””
Something inside me went perfectly still.
My mother, Loretta, had spent the last six months telling everyone who would listen that I was an irresponsible mother. She called my apartment unstable, my job unreliable, and my parenting questionable.
But she'd never done anything like this.
At least, not where I could see it.
I looked at the empty driveway.
“Did she say why she left you?””
Lily shook her head.
“She said I had to stay here.””
“Did she hurt you?””
“No.”” Lily's voice cracked.
“But she said you were going to make her angry.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Did she tell you to wait outside?””
Lily nodded.
“She said if I went inside, she'd know.””
“Know what?””
My daughter suddenly clung to me again.
“I don't want her to come back.””
“You don't have to worry about that right now.””
I kissed the top of her wet head and reached for the suitcase.
Its broken wheel dragged across the concrete.
Something about the suitcase bothered me. Lily had been staying with my mother for only two nights while I worked an extended shift at the medical billing office where I'd been employed for four years.
I'd packed her things myself.
Three dresses. Two pairs of pajamas. Her favorite stuffed rabbit.
I hadn't packed a legal envelope.
But when I lifted the suitcase, I heard something stiff scrape against the inside lining.
I stopped.
“Lily, honey, did Grandma put something in here?””
Her little body stiffened.
For the first time since I'd run outside, she looked genuinely afraid of answering me.
“Baby?””
“She told me not to show you.””
I lowered myself until our eyes met.
“You can tell Mommy anything.””
Lily glanced toward the gates again.
Then she whispered, “She said nobody would believe me.””
My heart began pounding.
“Believe you about what?””
Lily's mouth trembled.
She reached into the front pocket of the suitcase and pulled out a folded cream-colored envelope.
It was thick, sealed, and stamped with the name of a county court.
My fingers went cold.
“Where did you get this?””
“Grandma put it in my bag.”” Lily wiped her nose with the sleeve of her raincoat.
“She told me to keep it safe.””
“Did she tell you what it was?””
Lily shook her head.
Then she looked up at me with the frightened seriousness only a child can have.
“She said if you saw it, you'd lose me.””
For a moment, the rain seemed to grow louder.
I stared at the envelope.
My name was printed across the front.
NIA JOHNSON.
Beneath it was a case number.
And in the upper corner, someone had written a date that made my stomach twist.
Tomorrow.
My mother hadn't merely abandoned my daughter in the rain.
She'd arranged something.
And whatever it was, she intended for me to discover it too late.
I tucked the envelope inside my jacket, lifted Lily into my arms, and carried her toward the house.
Behind us, the iron gates swung slowly in the wind.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message appeared on the screen.
*DON'T OPEN THAT ENVELOPE UNTIL YOU GET TO THE HOTEL.*
I stared at the words.
May you like
A second message arrived before I could respond.
*YOUR MOTHER IS ALREADY THERE.*
