CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LIZ HAD DONE HER BEST TO prepare Roy’s daughters for the reality of seeing their father in prison, but words couldn’t begin to explain the experience. Not only did Melissa and Liz have to leave their cell phones in the car, Abby wasn’t allowed to bring gum. She’d had to tell the girls not to wear chambray shirts or jeans because the color was forbidden for visitors. It was what the prisoners wore. They all had to make sure their shirts had sleeves and that they would have to pass through a metal detector before they could see their father.
Their cheerful mood during the drive had faded, the closer they got to the prison, then disappeared when they stopped by the structure. Liz understood completely. There was no way to look at the forbidding building and feel anticipation.
They followed the other visitors to an open patio where Roy hovered. He looked both excited and nervous.
“You came,” he said, when he saw them.
Abby rushed toward him and he embraced her, but Melissa hung back.
“It’s all right,” Liz told her.
Melissa shook her head. “It’s not,” she whispered. “He’s not getting out of here, is he?”
Liz’s throat tightened. “It will be a while.”
“How could he do this? How could he leave us?”
Liz didn’t know what to say.
“He’s still your dad,” she managed to murmur. “He still loves you.”
Melissa swallowed. “Loving us isn’t going to be enough.”
She slowly approached her father, then hugged him.
The three of them settled on a picnic table. Liz hung back, wanting to give them private time together. She sat by herself, reading the book she’d brought, trying to ignore the other reunions going on around her. Some groups were happy, but others were quiet, marked with tears and obvious pain.
About an hour later, Roy walked over to sit next to her.
“They told me that you’re having the house fixed up,” he relayed, avoiding her gaze. “Thanks for that. I got the paperwork that lawyer sent. I’ve already signed it and sent it back.”
She nodded. The house was being put into a trust for the girls.
“When it’s finished, I’ll talk to a real estate agent again and we’ll figure out if it’s better to sell it now and invest the money or keep it and rent it out.”
Roy nodded. “Do whatever you think is best. You were always the smart one in the family.”
“Either way they’ll have money for their future.” They wouldn’t need it for college. If either of her nieces wanted to go, Liz would pay for it herself. She thought about saying that but thought Roy might think she was showing off. The situation was awkward enough already.
“I signed that other paper, too,” her brother told her, looking at her for the first time. “The one making you their legal guardian. I told them that they have to do what you said. Mel’s mad because you want to move them to San Francisco. I told her it was for the best.”
“I doubt she believed you.”
“She’ll get over it. She’s just a kid.” He shifted uneasily. “I was thinking you probably shouldn’t bring them back to see me again. It’s too hard on them.”
Liz had a feeling the person he was most concerned about was himself. “Are you going to write them?”
“Sure. Sure. I sent that one letter.”
“They’ll want to hear from you. You’re their father.”
“I know. I said I’d write.”
“Okay,” she murmured. “I’ll make sure they write you, too, and let you know what’s going on with them.”
“Thanks, Liz.”
“Sure.”
He returned to his daughters. A few minutes later, the girls walked over to her.
There were tears in their eyes. Abby tried to smile but failed. Melissa, like her father, wouldn’t look at Liz.
“Ready to go?” Liz asked.
Abby nodded.
They returned to the car. The afternoon was warm, the sky a cloudless blue. She cranked up the air conditioning until it blasted them, then headed for the freeway.
“Dad said you were our legal guardian now,” Melissa reported as she stared out the window.
“I am.” Liz clutched the steering wheel. “It’s not that he doesn’t love you. This just makes things easier. Like if you have to go to the doctor’s, I can sign the paperwork.”
“Or make us move,” Melissa said bitterly. “You’re not our mom.”
“I’m not trying to be,” Liz explained, refusing to take the attack personally.
“Can’t we stay?” Abby asked softly from the back-seat.
“No,” Melissa told her, turning to glare at her. “We can’t. Aunt Liz is going to make us move and we can’t stop her. If we run away, the police will find us and bring us back. She can do anything she likes. Even dump us in foster care.”