He Accused Me of Stealing, But I Heard the Truth novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Lobby
Six years after Imogen handed her a thin envelope, Ciara is called a thief in front of a hundred people by the man whose thoughts only she can hear, and her daughter collapses in his arms.
Six years after I ran from Chicago, the man who sent me away walked into the lobby of a family shelter with a camera crew and a check for a new wing.
I was in a hairnet, carrying a tray of other people's leftovers across that lobby to the dish room.
My daughter had hold of my apron.
She was five and had not eaten since yesterday.
The work program gave us a room and a bed, and it did not cover meals.
Her hand slid toward half a grilled cheese someone had left on a tray.
I caught her fingers.
"Wait a little longer, Birdie," I whispered. "Mommy will buy bread after my shift."
Behind me, a man said, "Ciara Mahoney?"
I knew the voice before I turned around.
Laurence stood three steps away in a charcoal suit, looking down at me.
His face had no warmth in it at all.
Half a step behind him stood Imogen Dray, his chief of staff, with her blonde bob and her folder against her chest.
Then a voice filled my head that was not mine.
*She's alive. She's really alive. Is that child mine?*
*Why are they dressed like this? Why is my daughter picking at other people's leftovers?*
I stared at his mouth.
It had not moved.
I thought I was losing my mind.
"Why are you here?" he said, in ice. "What happened to the money I sent you?"
*Did she give all of it to that painter?*
*I want to pick her up and I can't. She'll push me away. What do I even say?*
Birdie squeezed my leg and peeked out from behind it.
"Mommy, is that the bad daddy who gave you one skinny envelope and didn't want us?"
The lobby went silent.
Donors, board members and staff stood in a ring around us, and somebody raised a phone.
*Please don't let him scare her,* I thought.
Laurence's jaw flexed.
He crouched until his eyes were level with Birdie's.
"I won't shout again," he said quietly.
Then he stood and went back to ice.
"One envelope? After six years, that's the best lie you have?"
His thoughts nearly drowned him out.
*No. I had Imogen give her an account big enough to buy a house. Why does she say envelope?*
*She called me a bad daddy. Fine. She's right. But I never left on purpose.*
Imogen's face went white.
She stepped forward, eyes red-rimmed. "Ciara, you can't say that in front of a child."
Her voice shook with hurt.
"I gave you the account details myself. You told me no amount could repay the years you wasted. You took the money and left with that painter."
"What painter?" I said.
"Now you have nowhere to go," Imogen went on, "and you want to use a baby to squeeze Laurence."
"I never met a painter. I never saw an account. She handed me one envelope."
Laurence's shoulders locked.
"You make me sick, Ciara."
He crossed the floor and took my chin in his hand and forced my face up.
"You took my money for another man. When it ran out, you dragged my child into a shelter and fed her garbage."
His grip bruised.
*Let go. She's all bones. Let go.*
He let go.
He took out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers slowly, so the whole room would see.
A social worker nearby had already lifted a phone, asking if I wanted security.
I shook my head and pulled Birdie against my legs.
Imogen's mouth twitched in a small, quick smile, and was gone.
I had nothing left to explain with.
So I took Birdie's hand and looked him in the eye.
"Who you believe is your business. You came to donate. Go take your pictures with the board."
I picked Birdie up to leave.
She felt too light.
Then her head dropped against my shoulder, and her body went limp.
"Birdie!"
Laurence had her out of my arms before I could breathe.
*Why won't she open her eyes? Get a doctor. Get one now.*
*Birdie, don't be scared. Daddy's here.*
Daddy.
He had called himself that without a pause, and the word was not meant for me.
The ambulance took us to a children's hospital in Streeterville, where the Carrington family had funded a ward.
Within minutes, the top-floor consultation room was full of administrators.
I stood in the corner with cold sweat down my back.
The head of pediatric immunology held Birdie's chart.
"Severe hypoglycemia from long-term malnutrition. A lung infection. And a rare congenital immune deficiency."
She turned a page.
"We also found markers consistent with fetal drug exposure. If the mother took a cytotoxic drug during pregnancy, it has to go in her history."
Laurence's head turned toward me slowly.
"You took my money, ran off with that man, and then bought some black-market abortion pill?" He bit out every word. "You nearly killed her."
*Did she hate me that much? Or did that man make her do it? If he did, I'll find him.*
Imogen put a glass of water in his hand.
"Laurence, don't jump to conclusions. Maybe the drugs weren't her choice."
"Shut up," I said.
My whole arm shook as I pointed at her.
"Swear it. Swear you handed me an account."
Imogen only looked at him, eyes wet.
I turned to Laurence and told him the truth in front of every doctor in that room.
"She drove me to an illegal clinic on the South Side. Men held me in a chair. They forced pills down my throat. I climbed out a window onto a fire escape and jumped into a dumpster."
"That is the only reason I did not die in that alley."
His laugh was short and cold.
"You think six years has made me easier to fool? There's a relocation fund in the books with your electronic signature. And you want me to believe you jumped out a window with nothing but an envelope?"
He leaned in.
"Did the painter take your honesty too?"
*Why does she keep lying? Did she really jump from a second floor? Who caught her? Who took her to a hospital?*
I heard every frantic question in his head, and looked at the contempt on his face, and I understood him at last.
He only believed what was stamped and filed.
"Then I'll bring you paper," I said. "Since that's all you read."
His eyes held mine.
Imogen said gently, "Laurence, the girl should stay here. I'll call legal."
He nodded without looking at her.
*Take the child. Keep her under my doctors. Then Ciara can't leave.*
He had just decided, in silence, to take my daughter so I would stay.
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