Page 40 of Lillian

Lillian glares at her mom.

I don’t want to step in the lion’s mouth, but I’m curious. “What’s the situation, exactly? If you don’t mind me asking. How did Grace get placed with you?”

My question is for Lil, but it’s her mom that answers. “That crackhead left little Gracie for dead in a box on the side of the road. Lillian found her and moved back home so she could foster her. But she didn’t have her license yet, so Kim fostered her until she could get it. Mom came back around though and has made several attempts to get custody back. In between spouts of rehab that is. It never sticks. Just makes adopting Grace that much harder becausethe court’s goal is reunification.”

That last line sounds like it came from a judge’s mouth, and Natalie is sick of hearing it.

“Mom. Enough,” Lillian grounds out. Kim, their dad, and Jim are pointedly looking at their plates. But right away, I can tell Jim agrees with Natalie.

I make a mental note to ask around at work for a good adoption attorney tomorrow.

A phone starts to ring, breaking up the tension. The kids all come running through the living room screaming and head back down the hallway again right as Lillian pulls her phone out of her back pocket.

All eyes are on her as she frowns at the screen. “It’s Yasmine,” she tells everyone and then gets up, places her plate of food on the couch, and walks out the front door to take the call.

Worried glances are exchanged between everyone, and I ask, “Who is Yasmine?”

Jim stops scowling at me long enough to tell me, “Grace’s social worker.”

“Oh,” I say, not understanding the significance. Wouldn’t a call from the social worker be a normal occurrence?

“She never calls on Sunday’s unless it’s absolutely necessary,” Kim adds on.

“Which means bad news,” Jim says on a weary sigh.

Oh.

Well,fuck.

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.

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