That afternoon, Evelyn Price came to the hospital.
She stood just inside the room with a small paper bag in her hands.
“I brought a few things for Lily,” she said. “Some coloring books and crayons. I wasn't sure what she'd like.”
Lily looked up from her rabbit.
“Are those for me?”
Evelyn smiled, though her eyes were wet.
“If your mother says it's all right.”
I nodded.
“That's very kind of you.”
Evelyn placed the bag on the small table and approached the bed slowly.
She did not reach for Lily without asking.
Instead, she crouched beside the mattress.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Lily watched her carefully.
“You're Mrs. Price.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Daddy said you were coming.”
Evelyn's face changed.
I saw the moment she understood that Lily remembered more than the adults had wanted to believe.
“I wish I had come inside,” Evelyn said softly.
Lily looked at her rabbit.
“Daddy said someone was coming.”
“I know, honey.”
“But nobody did.”
Evelyn pressed her lips together.
She glanced at me, then back at Lily.
“I'm sorry.”
Lily did not answer.
She was four years old.
She had no reason to know what apology was supposed to do, or why an adult might offer one after the thing that mattered had already happened.
Evelyn stayed for a few minutes, speaking gently and asking whether Lily liked the coloring books.
Lily chose one with pictures of animals.
She held it against her chest beside the rabbit.
After a while, I walked Evelyn into the hallway.
She looked exhausted.
“I keep going over it in my head,” she said. “I saw her at the window. I thought something was wrong.”
“What happened when you tried the door?”
“I rang the bell and knocked. The man on the camera said the babysitter was upstairs. He sounded so certain.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anyone inside?”
“Not that I remember.”
She rubbed her palms together.
“I should have called the police.”
I did not disagree.
I also did not want to turn her guilt into the center of what had happened.
“You tried to check on her,” I said. “You were given an answer that made you think someone was there.”
“But I knew something felt wrong.”
I looked through the window in the door.
Lily was opening the coloring book, carefully turning the pages with her small fingers.
“I know.”
“I should have trusted that feeling.”
“Yes,” I said. “You should have.”
The words were plain, but I did not say them to punish her.
I said them because I was tired of watching adults soften the truth until it became impossible to recognize.
Evelyn nodded.
“I understand.”
“Thank you for coming here.”
She looked as though she wanted to say more.
Instead, she asked whether I needed anything brought from the house.
“I don't know what I need yet,” I told her.
“If you think of something, call me.”
I thanked her again.
When she left, I returned to Lily.
She was coloring a picture of a dog with a blue crayon.
The dog had a purple tail and one green ear.
“That's a very colorful dog,” I said.
“He can be whatever color.”
I smiled.
“He certainly can.”
She pushed the book toward me.
“Can you color the other one?”
I took the crayon she offered.
For several minutes, we sat together without discussing Derek, the house, or the closet.
I let her decide which colors belonged where.
I let her change her mind.
When she asked me to draw a sun in the corner, I made it too small.
She shook her head.
“Bigger, Mommy.”
So I drew a bigger one.
It was such a small thing, but it mattered that she could ask me for something and see me do it.
Later, after Lily was resting again, I reviewed the records on my phone.
The cruise charges remained what they were.
The account balance remained lower than it should have been.
The photograph remained on Derek's social media page, bright and cheerful beside the dates and times that showed when it had been posted.
None of those things told me what Patricia knew.
None told me whether Jenna had been aware of Lily's situation.
I could imagine several explanations, but imagining them did not make any of them true.
I wrote down what I knew about each person.
Derek had told me his mother arranged the childcare.
Evelyn had said a man assured her the babysitter was upstairs.
Lily had said Daddy left three days earlier.
I had found her alone.
Those facts did not answer every question, but they did not require me to invent an answer either.
My phone rang again.
This time, it was Patricia.
I stared at her name until the call nearly ended.
Then I answered.
“Hannah,” she said, sounding breathless. “What is going on?”
I kept my voice quiet.
“Lily is in the hospital.”
“I heard there was some confusion.”
“Confusion?”
“Derek said you came home early and called the police.”
“I came home early and found Lily alone.”
There was a pause.
“Oh, I'm sure it wasn't as bad as it looked.”
I turned toward the window.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“She was hungry, Patricia.”
“Well, Derek said he had made arrangements.”
“Who was supposed to stay with her?”
“I thought somebody was.”
“Who?”
“I don't know the woman's name.”
“Then how did you know she was coming?”
Patricia made a small, impatient sound.
“You're putting me on the spot.”
“I'm asking you about the arrangement you say was made.”
“I was told it was handled.”
“By whom?”
“Derek.”
I waited.
She did not add anything.
“Did you know he was leaving Lily at home?”
“He said she was going to be looked after.”
“Did you ask who would be looking after her?”
“Hannah, I have been on vacation with my family. I wasn't managing every detail of Derek's household.”
I looked at the door to Lily's room.
“You were on the cruise with him.”
“Yes, and that doesn't mean I knew everything he was doing.”
I could not argue with that.
Being on the cruise did not prove she knew Lily had been left alone.
It did not prove she did not know, either.
“I'm not asking you to take responsibility for every decision Derek makes,” I said. “I'm asking you to tell me what you actually knew.”
“I've told you.”
“Then that's what I'll record.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I'm keeping the facts straight.”
Her voice cooled.
“You need to be careful, Hannah. Families can be damaged by accusations.”
“Lily was already hurt by what happened.”
“She is a child. She'll forget.”
I looked at the rabbit beside the bed.
I thought of the dirty bowl, the empty kitchen, and the way Lily had asked if Derek had forgotten her.
“No,” I said. “I won't tell her this doesn't matter.”
Patricia sighed.
“I can't talk to you when you're like this.”
“Then we can talk when you're ready to answer questions.”
I ended the call before she could turn the conversation into another argument about my tone.
My hands were shaking.
I set the phone down and waited for them to stop.
I had wanted a family that stood together when things became difficult.
Instead, I was hearing the same words from different people.
It was a misunderstanding.
Someone else was supposed to handle it.
It wasn't as bad as it looked.
None of those statements changed what Lily had experienced.
I picked up the notebook and recorded the call as accurately as I could remember it.
I noted the questions I had asked and the answers Patricia had given.
I did not write that she had knowingly helped Derek abandon Lily.
I did not know that.
I wrote that she had been on the cruise with him and had said Derek told her childcare was arranged.
That was enough for the page.
When I finished, I closed the notebook.
The truth was not going to become clearer because I wanted it to.
It would become clearer only if the people involved stopped hiding behind what they thought I wanted to hear.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: I Could Not Change the Days My Daughter Had Spent Alone, but I Could Stop Letting Everyone Else Decide What Those Days Meant
I Came Home Early Expecting Two Familiar Faces, but the Little Girl on My Floor Made Me Question Everything I Thought I Knew
Part 11 of 12
