“Well, it seems Hunter has a problem with stealing.”
“Pardon me?”
“I know it’s shocking, but the police brought our boys home after school today. Hunter got caught shoplifting from the corner store. Poor Jackson got accused as well.”
“Wait a minute.” I was barely maintaining control. “Both children were picked up for shoplifting, but you believe it was all Hunter’s fault? And the police brought them home after school, but you didn’t call me right away?”
“When you put it that way, I could see why you might be upset. But really, Jamie, we wouldn’t have agreed to keep your child if we’d known he was so untrustworthy.”
Assholes. I’d trusted these people with my kid. I knew it was a mistake and ignored my instincts. I should’ve known trusting someone would end this way. Trust always screwed me.
“Vanessa, it would be my utmost pleasure to release you from your caretaker duty. Hunter will be collected this evening. This I assure you.”
“Thank you, Jamie. I hope you understand why we’re uncomfortable having him here.”
“Oh yes, I understand. I’m also very uncomfortable knowing my son will need to spend any more time in your home.” Sarcasm slipped out despite my efforts. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to someone with common sense. Could you please put my son back on the phone?”
Vanessa’s squawk of indignation made it clear she’d caught my barb. Why couldn’t I ever control myself?
Hunter whispered when he returned, “Mom, what did you say to her? I think you made her cry.”
“It doesn’t matter. We have a problem to solve. She can deal with her own hurt feelings.”
“She’s searching my bag to make sure I’m not stealing anything. What should I do?”
Hunter sounded calmer than me. He was direct and composed while I was frazzled and rude. I’d been on Dylan’s case about parenting, yet I was the one whose poor decisions had put our child at risk.
“Is that my grandson?” Dad croaked. “Jamie, give me the phone.”
Did I look as bad as I sounded? From the way Dad and Dylan were eyeing me, you’d think I was having a breakdown. Compared to my episode in Eric’s truck, I felt downright calm.
Still, my struggle to maintain composure must’ve been obvious. “It’s okay, Dad.”
“Mom, what should I do?” Hunter asked.
“Jamie, give me the phone.” Dad barked with authority.
He looked ferocious, like a man ready to tear into someone with his bare hands. It reminded me of his drunken moments.
Would he yell at me? Berate me for being worthless?
“It’s okay, bud, don’t worry.” A tear slipped down my face as I tried soothing Hunter.
Was I reassuring my son or myself?
“James.” Dad yelled again.
“Hunter, do me a favor. Say hello to your grandfather. He’d really like to talk to you. I’ll figure out what to do, okay?”
Hunter agreed, and against my better judgment, I handed my father the phone.
When Frank Hartley spoke to his grandson for the first time, something shifted. A universal realignment, or a shift in my perspective. Either way, it was monumental.
“Hello, Hunter? Yes, this is your grandfather. Tell me what happened.” His tone held genuine care. The asshole I’d accepted lifted his veil, revealing the father I used to know. Suddenly, he was the good guy, my rescuer, the daddy I’d loved and adored.
My body trembled with silent tears as I watched his transformation. Had he been hidden in plain sight all this time?
“Okay. No need to worry. Here’s what we’ll do. Stay calm. Go sit at the kitchen table where they can see you. Let your friend’s mom search whatever she wants. She can pack it all back up too. Don’t move until you see your dad’s badge at the door. You’re going to be fine. We’ll set things straight.”
