The single green folder eventually multiplied into two, and then three. I kept receipts in the first, banking documents in the second, and messages with family members in the third. None of this brought me any pleasure. Being thorough is not a form of vengeance. On occasion, being thorough is merely the structure you erect when no one else is prepared to speak honestly.
Caroline’s return to my daily routine was gradual. Had she tried to reintegrate overnight, I would have found it hard to trust.
She visited with the kids on Saturday mornings, bringing along her own food supplies. She made sure to ask permission before moving to another room. Over time, she ceased repeating Wade’s phrases as if they were her own thoughts.
One day, Hudson stood in the middle of my kitchen holding a crayon in each hand, asking why his mother looked so unhappy. Caroline turned her gaze toward me, filled with dread.
I lowered myself to my knees with caution, since my eye had recovered sufficiently by that point to permit the movement.
“Mommy is learning how to fix a grown-up mistake,” I told him.
He pondered this with a very solemn expression. “Like when I spill juice?”
He nodded. “Then she needs paper towels.”
Caroline began to laugh and weep simultaneously, a sound that seemed to signal a door swinging open somewhere inside the home.
Several months afterward, when the bank delivered its conclusive decision, I sat at the kitchen table reviewing the document with Otis by my side and Caroline positioned across from us. The account was no longer my liability. The record of fraud was kept officially documented and on file.
Wade faced repercussions that I will not attempt to portray as tidy or gratifying, as actual events are seldom so simple. Attorneys became involved. Official statements were taken. Caroline was forced to have discussions regarding custody that she had never anticipated uttering aloud. There were evenings when she would call me, remaining silent for nearly a full minute before softly uttering, “I’m sorry.”
