Chapter 4 - Ruth and Alan
Amelia’s parents answered on the second ring.
Ruth cried as soon as she heard my voice.
“Declan?”
“Are you expecting Emmett?”
Silence.
Then:
“What happened?”
My stomach dropped.
“You tell me.”
Alan came onto speaker.
“Declan, we have been trying to respect your decision.”
“What decision?”
Ruth whispered:
“Oh God.”
There it was.
They had emails.
From me.
Or what they thought was me.
A Gmail address close to mine.
My real personal email:
declan.winslow71.
The fake:
declanwinslow71.
No dot.
Gmail ignores dots? Actually in Gmail dots don't matter if same Gmail account, so cannot use that. Use different domain or swapped character. My real: declan.winslow@proton? Let's keep fictional corporate/personal.
Real:
Fake:
One hyphen.
Registered four months earlier.
Emails:
I’m worried Emmett is not adjusting after everything.
He’s becoming oppositional with Jocelyn.
I may need a reset.
Would you consider having him for a school term?
Ruth replied cautiously.
Of course, but only if this is what you and Emmett need.
Fake me:
He needs structure and family history from Amelia’s side.
That sentence was cruelly clever.
Ruth would respond.
Then:
I’m travelling constantly.
Jocelyn is exhausted.
Emmett may be better with you during the school year.
Alan asked to call.
Fake me:
I’m in meetings. Let’s keep this on email for now because custody/school logistics get complicated.
They did.
Why didn’t they call my known number anyway?
Ruth had.
Twice.
Both calls went unanswered.
I checked.
Dates.
One was during a board meeting.
One Sunday afternoon.
I had seen her voicemail:
“Call when you have time about Emmett.”
I texted:
Crazy week. Will call soon.
Then forgot.
My failure.
Jocelyn had not intercepted that.
I simply did not call.
Ruth assumed my short text confirmed the email conversation.
That hurt.
Fraud works best when it leans against real neglect.
Not child neglect.
Communication neglect.
Then more.
Fake me sent a scanned temporary caregiver authorization.
My signature.
Not handwritten fresh.
Copied from a home-insurance PDF.
Ruth noticed it looked digital.
Assumed e-sign.
The form was not notarized.
Would it have legal force?
Limited.
Enough to start school inquiry and medical forms.
Not enough for long-term custody.
Then school withdrawal.
Uploaded from my parent account.
How did Jocelyn access?
We shared passwords for household systems.
Bad security.
Not authorization to impersonate.
Both truths.
Then airline reservation.
Emmett and Jocelyn.
One-way to Burlington three weeks later.
Jocelyn returning alone next morning.
My stomach turned.
“Did you know she planned to fly with him?”
Ruth said:
“She told us you had a municipal project launch and couldn’t.”
No.
Then:
“Did she say he was staying for the year?”
“Yes.”
Ruth began sobbing.
“We thought we were helping you.”
I believed her.
“Did Emmett know?”
“She said you were preparing him.”
That word.
Preparing.
Porch.
Garage.
Room.
Someone else.
Not just punishment.
Transition.
Ruth said:
“We bought a bed.”
I closed my eyes.
Not their fault.
They had believed a father was asking his deceased wife’s parents to help their grandson.
Reasonable.
Then Alan said:
“We will send everything to your attorney.”
“Thank you.”
“And Declan?”
“Yes?”
“We don’t want him if it means taking him from you.”
My throat closed.
“I know.”
“Tell him that.”
“I will.”
When I hung up, Emmett was at Leah’s conference-room table drawing.
I sat beside him.
“Buddy.”
He looked up.
“Grandma Ruth?”
“Yes.”
“Am I going?”
“No.”
His face relaxed so quickly it hurt.
Then:
“Grandma Ruth bad?”
“No.”
“Jocelyn says she wants me.”
“She loves you.”
His eyes filled.
“Then why no go?”
“Because loving someone doesn’t mean they want to take you away.”
He thought.
“Daddy wants me?”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
No speech.
No caveat.
“Yes.”
He pressed Mr. Woof against his cheek.
May you like
That night I called Ruth again.
This time I did not forget.
