Page 57 of Love and Other Lost Things

“Not yet.” Jane had a list of things she wanted to pick up before they left for Canada, things she couldn’t buy before they left LA for fear that Matteo might find them. Warmer coats for both her and Scarlett. A pair of haircutting scissors and dye in a basic shade of brown. A couple of baseball hats. “Kait said it could be a week or so.”

“And you think you can trust her?” Mom frowned.

“She’s literally the only person I can trust.”

Mom flinched at that, but Jane couldn’t bring herself to take it back. Sometimes the truth hurt.

“Did you think about my suggestion about hiring an attorney? I saw Martin Lefkowitz at the grocery store last week. I mentioned we might be needing some legal advice and he said to stop by anytime.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell him anything about me, did you?”

“No, he thought it was about Dad’s paperwork. But the point is that I think he’d be willing to help you leave Matteo and get custody of Scarlett through the legal channels.”

Jane shook her head. “Would calling a lawyer and going through the legal channels to leave Dad have worked for you?”

“It’s not the same.” Mom’s shoulders drooped. “Dad was the chief of police in this town. And I didn’t have anywhere to go. By the time I might have been able to consider leaving, your grandparents in Ottawa had already passed, and there was nowhere else.”

Jane stared across the counter at Mom. The woman’s voice at the domestic violence shelter came back to her, explaining her options. Or lack of options, it had felt like to Jane. Barriers at every turn. Mom’s choices hadn’t been any better.

“Just because he doesn’t live here doesn’t mean Matteo will ever let us go. If I tell him Scarlett and I aren’t coming back, he’ll show up here.”

“Well, let him come,” Mom snapped. “We can handle it.”

Jane gaped at her. “How?”

Mom shrugged, busying herself with opening one of the kitchen drawers. “Well…” she finally said. “I think…”

Her voice trailed off at the sound of Scarlett’s feet stomping on the stairs.

“I don’t want to talk about this in front of Scarlett,” Jane said, sliding off her stool. “For now, I think I’ll stick to my plan.”

TWENTY-ONE

Jane drove forty-five minutes south to a Walmart in Pennsylvania to pick up her supplies. The last thing she needed was one of the local busybodies shopping at Ford’s to interrogate her about why she was buying brown hair dye and dark sunglasses in the middle of winter.

When Jane returned home, she parked her car and stepped out onto Mom’s driveway. Immediately, a high-pitched wail carried out from inside the house.

Scarlett. Jane’s heart slammed in her chest. Oh my God, was it—? Could Matteo have?—?

Jane didn’t stop to think, she just took off running up the porch steps and flung open the front door. In the hallway, she found Mom frantically throwing on her shoes while Scarlett sat on the steps clutching one arm with her opposite hand, a bleeding gash across her forehead, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Jane rushed toward her daughter, crouching down to look her over. Scarlett pulled her arm closer to her body and wailed louder.

“What happened?” Jane searched for an angry six-foot man, but—thank God—there was no sign of him. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and pressed it to Scarlett’s forehead.

“I fell,” Scarlett gasped, the hitching in her chest turning the two syllables into five. “I bumped my head and my arm hurts.”

“We were cleaning up the lunch dishes.” Mom’s voice shook. “I went upstairs for just a moment, and then I heard a crash. I ran back down and found that Scarlett had pulled a dining chair up to the kitchen counter and had climbed up to reach the chocolate chips.”

“I’m sorry,” Scarlett wailed.

“She slipped in her socks and fell off.” Mom yanked her coat on. “We’re going to the emergency room. I planned to call you on the drive.” Mom’s shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, I should have been watching.”

Jane reached for Scarlett’s boots and gently helped her daughter slide her feet inside. “It’s not your fault. Scarlett has always been a chocolate monster. Right, baby?” She kept her voice upbeat, forcing a smile for her daughter so she wouldn’t know how Jane’s heart was pounding. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I’ll drive, you can sit in the back with Scarlett,” Mom said, swinging open the front door as Jane helped Scarlett to her feet.

Once Jane had Scarlett strapped in and they were on their way to the hospital, her heartbeat finally returned to normal. The gash on her daughter’s forehead had looked worse than it was once Mom had handed her a box of tissues from the front seat and she was able to gently wipe away the blood. And Scarlett’s wails had tapered to whimpers by the time they reached the hospital.

---