Part Four: The Box in the Closet
On the tenth day, I searched the hall closet for another blanket.
Behind a stack of towels, I found an old cardboard box.
I had not opened it in years.
Inside were several children’s books, a pair of tiny red rain boots, and a collection of crayon drawings.
One showed a blue house beneath a bright yellow sun.
Another showed two figures holding hands beneath the words:
Me and Mom.
My chest tightened.
I closed the lid.
Some memories did not become lighter with time. They simply learned how to remain quiet.
That evening, Helen brought dinner and stayed long enough to watch Ava babbling on the living room rug.
“She feels safe with you,” Helen said.
I looked down at the baby.
“I hope so.”
“She doesn’t hope so. She knows.”
After Helen left, I sat beside Ava while she struggled to roll onto her stomach.
She tried once and failed.
Then twice.
On her third attempt, she managed to turn completely over.
She lifted her head and looked at me with such pride that I clapped.
“You did it!”
Ava squealed.
Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed the top of her head.
The instant my lips touched her soft hair, tears filled my eyes.
I was not supposed to love her.
She belonged to someone else.
At any moment, Dana could arrive and take her away.
That night, I lay awake listening to the rain begin again.
I wondered where Sabrina was.
Had she been injured?
Was she hiding?
Had she regretted leaving Ava but become too afraid to return?
Or had something happened that prevented her from returning at all?
Every possibility left me feeling helpless.
The next morning, rain tapped softly against the windows as I fed Ava in the rocking chair.
She had nearly finished her bottle when someone pounded on the front door.
Three heavy knocks shook the frame.
My heart leaped.
Holding Ava against my shoulder, I hurried into the hallway.
When I opened the door, Sabrina stood on the porch.
For a moment, relief made everything else disappear.
She was alive.
But she looked completely exhausted. Dark shadows circled her eyes, and a fading bruise marked one side of her face.
Two uniformed police officers stood behind her.
“You came back,” I breathed.
Sabrina’s eyes moved immediately to Ava.
Tears gathered in them.
Then she looked at me.
Slowly, she lifted one trembling hand and pointed directly at my chest.
“That’s her,” she said.
One of the officers stepped forward.
“Are you Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“We need you to come with us.”
The relief inside me collapsed.
I looked at Sabrina.
“Did you tell them I took your baby?”
She lowered her eyes.
She said nothing.
My arms tightened around Ava.
“I called the police myself. Child Protective Services knows everything.”
“We understand,” the officer said. “But we still need you to come to the station.”
I stepped into the rain with my heart pounding.
A thousand questions raced through my mind, but one rose above all the others.
Why had Sabrina returned only to point at me?
