Chapter 11 - Ruth’s House
I took Emmett to Vermont three months later.
Not to live.
To visit.
His choice.
Dr. Lowe prepared him.
Ruth and Alan prepared too.
No:
We almost had you.
No:
Jocelyn lied.
Age-appropriate.
Emmett hugged Ruth at the airport.
Then asked immediately:
“Am I staying?”
She crouched.
“You’re visiting with Dad.”
“For how many sleeps?”
“Three.”
“And Dad?”
“Same three.”
He relaxed.
That was the difference.
Predictability.
At their house, Ruth showed him the bedroom they had prepared.
Airplane sheets.
A lamp shaped like moon.
He stared.
“Mine?”
“When you visit.”
“Not forever?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Daddy?”
“Not forever.”
Then he touched the bed.
“Can I sleep here?”
“Yes.”
His relationship with Ruth survived.
Good.
Jocelyn had not poisoned it permanently.
At dinner Alan said:
“We should have called harder.”
I looked at him.
“I should have called back.”
Ruth cried.
“We believed you.”
“Because she used things only we knew.”
Amelia.
My guilt.
My work.
That was not their fault.
Then Emmett asked:
“Why everybody sad?”
Ruth wiped eyes.
“Adults made mistakes.”
He nodded.
“Jocelyn?”
I held breath.
Ruth said:
“Jocelyn made some serious mistakes too.”
Good.
No monster story.
Then after three nights we flew home.
Emmett cried leaving.
That was healthy.
He wanted grandparents and home.
Both.
Jocelyn had built her plan around a false binary:
May you like
Vermont or me.
Children can belong in more than one place without being displaced.
