Chapter 3 - While He Was Gone
I read the document three times.
My name did not change.
Neither did the line that gave Lauren authority to make medical and educational decisions for Emma if I was judged "temporarily unavailable."
"Who forged this?" James asked.
Mom covered her mouth. "Lauren brought it. She said you had signed before deployment."
"And Rachel?"
"She said Rachel signed at home."
I laughed once, because the alternative was screaming.
"You accepted a document giving my sister authority over my child without asking me?"
Mom started crying. "She said you were overwhelmed."
"I had a newborn and a husband overseas. I was tired, not incompetent."
Dad stepped between us. "Enough. Your mother thought she was helping."
James took the folder and photographed every page.
"Who notarized it?"
Mom pointed at the final sheet.
The notary seal belonged to a woman named Cynthia Bell.
I knew the name.
She worked with Lauren at the real estate office.
My hands went numb.
James turned another page and found a handwritten note clipped behind the form.
RACHEL HAS BEEN EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE SINCE DELIVERY. MONITOR FOR SAFETY.
Under it were dates.
Doctor appointments.
Days James had called from overseas.
The afternoon I had cried in Mom's kitchen because Emma had a fever and I hadn't slept in thirty hours.
Someone had been keeping a record of me.
"Lauren wrote this," I whispered.
Mom said nothing.
That silence answered me.
James closed the folder.
"We're leaving."
Dad scoffed. "You're overreacting."
James stopped beside him.
"Your daughter forged our signatures, built a file on my wife, and struck my infant tonight. If you think leaving is an overreaction, that's exactly why we're leaving."
Outside, I buckled Emma into her car seat with shaking fingers.
James got behind the wheel but didn't start the engine.
"Rachel."
I looked at him.
He held up his phone.
Our front-door camera had sent an old motion alert after he searched the archive.
The date was four months earlier.
May you like
Lauren was standing on our porch.
And in her hand was a key to our house.
