They lay there in the darkness, no longer relaxed, both of them wide awake. Janie’s mind raced through possibilities, each one worse than the last. Emergency custody. Expedited hearing. New evidence. Had her mother discovered the ER incident? Why didn’t David just say that? Could there be something else? Something she’d fabricated?
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it,” Hannah said.
She said the words calmly, but Janie could still hear the tension in her voice. “What if we can’t?” The words slipped out before Janie could stop them. “What if she’s made somethingup? What if?—”
“Janie.” Hannah wrapped Janie’s hands in her own and gripped tight in the darkness. “We’ll handle it together. Let’s try to get some sleep.”
Janie turned again and snuggled back in, but as she lay there, staring at the phone, that little box of doom, and listening to Hannah’s breathing gradually slow back toward sleep, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the other shoe had finally dropped. They’d had six perfect days. Six days of reconnecting, of hope, of believing they might actually make it through this.
And now her mother had made her next move.
Her phone didn’t buzz again to furnish her with more information, with something that would tell her exactly how bad this was going to be. The recalcitrant block of plastic and circuits lay useless now.
She couldn’t sleep. All she could think of was courtrooms, and judges, and her daughters crying for her as her mother dragged them away.
CHAPTER 23
Solo staredat her dad’s rudimentary plans for the tiny house spread across the dining room table, but the numbers and measurements kept blurring together. She’d been looking at the same page for ten minutes, unable to focus on square footage or electrical requirements because her mind kept circling back to yesterday’s phone call with David.
Janie’s mother wasn’t waiting for the scheduled court date three weeks away; she’d filed an emergency hearing and was pushing for temporary custody immediately, claiming “new evidence of parental neglect.”
What new evidence? The ER incident, probably. David had been maddeningly vague, saying only that he’d know more after reviewing the filing in detail and that they shouldn’t panic. But how were they supposed to not panic when “temporary custody” meant Janie’s mother could have the girls within days?
“You’re going to burn a hole in that paper if you keep staring at it like that,” her dad said from the doorway, two mugs of coffee in his hands.
Solo looked up. “Sorry. I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking about?—”
“The court thing. I know.” He set the coffee down in front of her. “Is Janie still at work?”
“Yeah. She had depositions all afternoon.” Solo rubbed her eyes. “She’ll be home around seven.”
The word “home” had an almost miraculous taste on her tongue, even after Janie had stayed over this whole week instead of alternating with nights at her apartment. They fell asleep together and woke up together andnavigated the ongoing chaos of triplet parenthood together. It’d been all but perfect, with a few moments of friction, and times when Janie’s depression tried to derail them, but they were working through it.
Or they had been, until Janie’s mother threw another grenade into their lives.
“You know,” her dad said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her, “I’ve been thinking about the timeline for the tiny house.”
She pushed away the papers and grabbed her coffee. “I’m not sure I want to talk about this right now. I have other things pressing for my attention.”
“Actually, I think the distraction might do you good.” He drew the plans closer to him. “I was thinking we could break ground when the weather starts to warm up in March. We’d get the foundation poured and the framing up before it gets too hot. I reckon we could be move-in ready by June.”
“That fast?”
“Tiny houses are quick to build,” he said. “That’s part of the appeal. And I’ve got a buddy from the hardware store who’s a retired contractor. He’s bored out of his mind and looking for a project.” Her dad smiled. “But in the meantime, I think you and Janie need your space back, so I’m going to look for a short-term rental. Me making myself tactfully scarce isn’t going to work for the next six months.”
“You’re not in the way?—”
“Hannah,” he said, “I love being here. I love seeing you and my granddaughters every day. But you two are rebuilding your marriage, and that’s hard to do with your old man underfoot. Six months is nothing in the scheme of things. And when we build the tiny house, I get to stay close, but you get your privacy. Win-win.”
Solo’s throat tightened. This hadn’t been the plan, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to lose an integral part of her new support system just yet. “I don’t know what I would have donewithout you.”
“You would’ve figured it out. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You always have been. But I’m glad I could help. And I’m proud of you for turning to me and not alcohol.”
Solo pulled her hand away, unable to meet his gaze. He’d rescued her too many times from that rathole when she was younger. “Woody and RB appreciated it too,” she said, recalling the day she took a crate of liquor to their place after Janie had just left. “I had to be strong for the girls. I couldn’t lose myself in a bottle like I have before.”
He nodded. “Still. That takes guts, slugger, and I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” she said quietly.
