Chapter 4
Mom’s arraignment was three days later.
I didn’t want Amy to go. I wanted her to stay in the hotel room we’d rented, resting, taking care of Freddy. But she’d insisted.
“I have to see her,” she’d said, her voice steady. “I have to look her in the eye and know she can’t hurt us anymore.”
The courtroom was packed.
Most of our family was there, the same ones who’d been at the party. They stared at Amy as we walked in, whispering behind their hands. I pulled her closer, my arm tight around her waist.
Mom was led in ten minutes later, in an orange jail jumpsuit, her hair greasy, no makeup. She looked old. Tired. But when her eyes landed on Amy, her mouth twisted into that same cruel sneer.
She mouthed two words.
You’ll pay.
Amy flinched.
I squeezed her hand.
Her lawyer stood first, a sleazy guy in a too-tight suit who’d been appointed by the court.
“Your Honor,” he said, his voice booming. “My client is a sixty-two-year-old grandmother with no prior record. She’s devoted her entire life to raising her son, only to be thrown in jail over a simple family misunderstanding. That girl—” he pointed at Amy “—has a history of postpartum depression. She’s unstable. She manipulated my grandson into turning against his own mother. This is a travesty.”
The judge flipped through the file in front of him, his face impassive.
He looked up at mom.
“Ms. Bradley,” he said. “You’re charged with trespassing, exploitation of a vulnerable adult, three counts of forgery, assault on a police officer, and conspiracy to commit grand larceny. The evidence against you includes forged documents, witness testimony from your co-defendant, medical records of the infant’s condition, and over two hundred text messages threatening your daughter-in-law. Do you understand the severity of these charges?”
Mom stood up, her voice shrill.
“That girl is lying!” she screamed, pointing at Amy. “She’s a gold digger! She married my son for his money! She’s been abusing that baby, I was just trying to protect—”
“Enough,” the judge said, slamming his gavel.
He set bail at fifty thousand dollars, cash only.
No one in the family moved.
No one offered to pay.
The judge issued a permanent no-contact order. Mom was forbidden from coming within five hundred feet of me, Amy, Freddy, or our house. She couldn’t call us, text us, have anyone else contact us on her behalf. If she broke the order, she’d go straight back to jail, no bail, no questions asked.
As the bailiffs led her out, she twisted in their grip, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“You’ll regret this, Connor! You’ll be sorry you chose that whore over your own mother! I’ll take everything from you! You’ll end up on the street, begging me for help!”
Amy didn’t look at her.
She stared straight ahead, her back straight, her hand tight in mine.
We walked out of the courthouse into the bright August sun.
A group of the relatives from the party were waiting on the steps. They swarmed us before we could get to the truck, talking over each other, shoving flowers and homemade cookies at us.
“We had no idea, Connor,” my aunt Linda said, crying. “She told us Amy was on drugs, that she wouldn’t feed the baby, that she was too lazy to get out of bed. We thought we were helping you!”
“We’re so sorry, Amy,” another cousin said. “If we’d known, we never would’ve come.”
I didn’t know what to say.
I was still angry. Still hurt that they’d believed mom so easily, that they’d eaten my food, drunk my liquor, while my wife suffered in the kitchen.
But Amy squeezed my hand.
She smiled at them, a small, tired smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the apology.”
We drove back to the hotel in silence.
Freddy was asleep in his car seat, his little thumb in his mouth.
Amy stared out the window for a long time.
“Connor,” she said, her voice quiet. “I have to testify at the trial, don’t I?”
I nodded.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “What if she gets out? What if she comes after us?”
I pulled into the hotel parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to face her.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice firm. “She is never getting out of that jail in time to hurt you. Or Freddy. Ever. And even if she did? I would burn the whole world down before I let her get within ten feet of either of you. You are my family. You and Freddy. Nothing else matters.”
She leaned over and kissed me, her lips soft against mine.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” I said.
We sat there for a long time, holding each other, watching Freddy sleep.
May you like
The hardest part was still ahead.
But for the first time in six months, I felt like we might actually win.
