The paper shook in my hands.
The envelope also contained a draft of the guardianship forms, signed by both Michael and my mother. The notary stamp sat at the bottom, clean and complete — like it had all been ready.
Then came the letter — Aunt Sammie’s sharp, formal handwriting filled the page.
She’d said Michael wasn’t stable. And that she’d spoken to lawyers.
That “a man with no relation to the child cannot provide proper structure.”
She’d said Michael wasn’t stable.
It wasn’t about safety; it was about control.
And then the journal page. In a single torn leaf were my mother’s words:
“If anything happens, don’t let them take her.”
I pressed the paper to my chest and closed my eyes.
The floor was cold beneath me, but the ache in my chest swallowed it.
He had carried that all alone. And he never let it touch me.
***
It wasn’t about safety; it was about control.
The meeting at the attorney’s office was scheduled for eleven, but Aunt Sammie called me at nine.
“I know that your father’s will is being read today. I thought maybe we could walk in together,” she said. “Family should sit together, don’t you think?”
“You never sat with us before,” I said, unsure how else to answer.
“Oh, Clover. That was a long time ago.”
There was a pause — long enough to remind me she was still there.
“Family should sit together, don’t you think?”
“I just… I know things were tense back then,” she continued. “But your mother and I… we had a complicated bond. And Michael — well, I know you cared for him.”
“Cared?” I asked. “I adore him, Aunt Sammie. He was everything to me.”
Another pause.
“I just want today to go smoothly. For everyone.”
“I know you cared for him.”
When Aunt Sammie arrived, she greeted the lawyer by name and shook his hand like they were old friends. She kissed my cheek, and the smell of rose hand cream clung to my skin long after she’d stepped away.
She wore pearls and soft pink lipstick, her blonde hair swept into a bun that made her look younger.
When the lawyer began reading the will, she kept dabbing her eyes with a tissue she hadn’t used until someone else looked her way.
She kissed my cheek.
