Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 267(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Unwilling to think about it any longer, I climb out of the car to wait for Bailey by the exit to the school. I smile at a few of the friendlier moms, and soon the bell rings, and the kids begin to flow out, the teachers of the younger children walking them to the doors.
I catch sight of Bailey’s dark hair and am just about to call the girl’s name when someone does it first.
“Bailey!”
I spin around in time to see the child’s mother waving toward her.
“No.” I push past a few parents to reach Bailey first, grasping her hand just as Kayla strides into our personal space.
“Bailey, baby, it’s Mommy!”
I freeze, holding Bailey’s hand tight. This is what Austin feared, Bailey being confronted by her mother, and neither Austin nor I know what the little girl remembers about her.
Bailey squeezes my fingers back, her little hand feeling fragile in my larger one.
“Bailey?”
“You need to leave,” I say to Kayla, keeping my voice level so as not to frighten Bailey even more.
Kayla looks nothing like the other moms in jeans, shirts, and jackets. Instead she wears a skimpy dress and high heels, as out of place in this environment as she is in her daughter’s life.
“I have a right to see my child.”
“Not according to the custody agreement I understand exists.”
Kayla perches her sunglasses on top of her head, her eyes not focused on Bailey but glaring at me.
“Bailey, honey? Don’t you remember me?” She isn’t even smart enough to drop down to Bailey’s level to try and reach her.
Bailey backs her body into mine, causing Kayla to frown as her daughter clearly makes her choice. A choice no child should have to make, between a caregiver and her mother.
“Kayla, go now.”
“Is there a problem?” One of the teachers strides over and asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“No,” Kayla replies.
I glance at the older woman. “I’m allowed to pick up Bailey. She isn’t.” I gesture to Kayla, refusing to call her Bailey’s mother out loud. She doesn’t deserve the acknowledgment, and I refuse to scare the little girl.
“I’m sorry, Ms.…?” The teacher glances at Kayla for an answer.
“Gibson. Kayla Gibson,” she says sullenly.
“Ms. Gibson, do I need to go to the office and check the parental forms?” Or will you leave quietly? The words are implied.
Keeping my grasp on Bailey and brushing her head soothingly, I hold her breath.
“I’ll go.” Kayla plops her sunglasses back down on her nose. “But this isn’t the end of things. You—” She points at me, almost poking at me with her finger. “—tell my ex-husband he knows what he has to do if he wants this to end.”
She glances at Bailey, almost as an afterthought. “I’ll see you soon,” she says, waving her fingers at her daughter… for show. There is no caring that I can see.
I wait until Kayla not only walks away but climbs into her car and drives off before taking Bailey and walking her to a quiet space on the grass.
I kneel down and glance at the little girl, who looks up at me with big, frightened eyes. “Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I don’t like her,” Bailey whispers. “She yells a lot.”
I swallow hard. I minored in psychology but nothing prepared me for this.
“You know her?” Better than saying do you remember her? I don’t know if it makes a difference.
“That’s Mommy,” Bailey whispers. “She hurt me.”
Oh, shit. That is the perfect answer to Austin’s custody problem, and the worst answer for this happy little girl.
“Don’t worry. She won’t ever hurt you again.” I kiss her cheek and take her hand. “Let’s go see Daddy,” I suggest, knowing I am out of my depth.
We drive home in silence, which is unusual for Bailey on any normal day, but today isn’t a typical day.
Austin is waiting for us in the kitchen when we enter the house, downing a sports drink. He obviously just worked out and timed his ending to see his daughter when she arrived home from school.
“Bailey Button!” he calls out.
Bailey trudges inside, dumping her backpack in the hallway. She doesn’t call out Daddy! the way she usually does, and she doesn’t jump into his arms.
“Mia?” he asks, obviously concerned.
I bite down on my lower lip. “Umm… Bailey, go get a juice box from the fridge, okay? I want to talk to your dad.”
The little girl shuffles away, and my heart breaks a little more.
“What happened?” Austin bites out.
“Bailey had a visitor outside school.” I quickly recount the incident with Kayla, including Bailey’s reaction of curling into me and her admission that she remembers the woman as her mommy, and as someone who not only yelled a lot but who hurt her.
“Son of a bitch!” Austin’s hands curl into fists, and I immediately reach out to soothe him. I grasp his tight hand and urge him to relax, rubbing my thumb over his straining knuckles.