Chapter 14 - THE ROOM UPSTAIRS
Dahlia asked to visit the estate once.
Not Beatrice.
The building.
Her room.
Child therapist said:
Only if she wanted.
No pressure.
Beatrice and Renata were barred.
We went with a child advocate and estate manager.
The upstairs guest room looked untouched after police photographed it.
Pink blanket.
Books.
Small lamp.
Nothing sinister.
That was almost worse.
Safety had been one staircase away.
Dahlia opened the closet.
Empty.
“Where clothes?”
“Your suitcase came home.”
“Oh.”
Then she went to the laundry room.
Saw the shelf where it had been stored.
No dramatic reaction.
Then kitchen corridor.
The blanket was gone.
Evidence release.
Floor cleaned.
She stood in the spot.
I waited.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t the workers tell you?”
There.
Not:
Why did Grandma do it?
Children often ask the question adults ask themselves.
I answered:
“Some thought Grandma was allowed to decide. Some did not understand all of it. Some were scared to challenge her.”
“Were they scared like me?”
“Probably in a different way.”
She looked toward the swinging kitchen door.
“Adults scared?”
“Yes.”
She seemed surprised.
Then:
“Are you scared of Grandma?”
I thought.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows how to make people feel like disagreeing means losing family.”
Dahlia nodded.
“She said that.”
“What?”
“If I told you, I’d make you lose family.”
My throat tightened.
I had not known that exact sentence.
I did not ask more.
Dr. Nora could handle follow-up.
Then Dahlia went upstairs again.
She took Sofia’s framed photograph from the dresser.
Held it.
“Can this go home?”
“It already is home wherever you want it.”
Too sentimental.
She rolled her eyes.
“Dad.”
May you like
“Take it.”
Better.
