Chapter 46 Chapter Forty-Six
"Lena!"
A small voice came from the doorway, bright and excited, completely shattering the heavy moment between mother and daughter.
Both of them turned to see Martin standing in the entrance to the cleaning supply closet, his face lit up with a smile that seemed wider than usual.
He was practically bouncing on his toes.
"There you are!" He stepped into the small space, his eyes fixed on Lena as though she was the most important person in the world.
Mom quickly wiped her eyes, tucking her phone back into her pocket. The 911 screen disappeared and the moment was broken.
Martin noticed Mom and immediately straightened up, his voice taking on that careful, formal tone he often used when he was trying to be polite. "Good evening, ma'am."
"Good evening, Martin," Mom said softly, managing a smile despite the tears still clinging to her lashes.
"Sorry if I'm interrupting," Martin continued, glancing between them with concern.
"But I've been looking everywhere for her." His eyes landed back on Lena. "Can I please borrow her?"
Mom looked at Lena, and unspoken words passed between them.
The conversation they'd been having; the apology, the promises, the threat of calling the police, all of it hung tense in the air.
"Of course," Mom said finally.
Then to Lena, she said quieter, "I'm sure we can continue our talk another time."
Lena forced a smile. "Sure, Mom."
But even as she said it, she knew she had absolutely no intention of telling her mother anything.
What would be the point? Allison's father was a senator. A senator.
People like that didn't face consequences. They had lawyers who made problems disappear, not to mention connections that reached into every corner of the city.
Her mom didn't need the burden of pressing charges they couldn't afford, or hiring lawyers they'd never be able to pay, or fighting a battle they were guaranteed to lose.
They were barely keeping their heads above water as it was.
That ship had sailed.
Mom reached out and squeezed Lena's shoulder. "Oh, and Lena? Please don't forget to eat something tonight."
Her voice dropped to a whisper, concern causing her forehead to wrinkle. "You're losing so much weight. I'm so worried."
Lena's smile tightened. "Sure, Mom."
Another lie.
Food was the last thing on her mind.
Her stomach had been in knots all day, and even thinking about eating made nausea rise in her throat.
The stress, the fear, and the constant anxiety and self-hate had killed her appetite a long time ago.
But Mom didn't need to know that either.
Lena turned her attention to Martin, who was waiting patiently by the door, rocking slightly on his heels.
She stood up from the overturned bucket and let his small hand slip into hers.
He led her out of the closet, down the hallway, his grip warm and sure.
For someone who usually struggled with physical contact, Martin seemed unusually comfortable holding her hand today.
When they reached the stairs, Lena asked, "How was school today?"
Martin thought about it for a moment, his head tilted. "It was okay."
"Just okay? Come on, tell me about it."
"My English teacher said I was doing better." A hint of pride crept into his voice. "I got a B on my English test."
Lena's heart lifted slightly. "A B? Wow, Martin, that's wonderful!"
"Last time I got a D," he added.
"I know. That's a huge improvement." She squeezed his hand gently. "I told you the lessons would pay off."
Martin nodded seriously. "You were right, they are paying off."
He led her up the stairs, past the second-floor landing, all the way to the third floor where his room was.
But instead of stopping at his bedroom door, he turned left toward the playroom, the large open space Mrs Dawson had converted specifically for Martin's hobbies.
When they stepped inside, Lena stopped short.
Spread across the entire centre of the room was an elaborate train set.
It wasn't the kind of plastic kind you'd find at a toy store, but a genuine model railway with intricate tracks that looped and curved and crossed over themselves in complicated patterns.
There were tiny trees, miniature town buildings, even a little train station with benches and streetlights.
And in the middle of it all, a steam locomotive train chugged along the rails, its wheels turning smoothly, realistic puffs of steam rising from its smokestack.
"Oh my gosh," Lena breathed, crouching down to get a better look. "Martin, this is incredible!"
Martin's face lit up like a Christmas tree. He stood beside the train set, his hands clasped in front of him, looking both proud and shy.
"Jace just got it for me," he said quietly. "I wanted to show you."
"It's amazing." Lena watched the train complete a full circuit, marvelling at the detail. "How long did it take you to build this?"
"Three hours and forty-two minutes," Martin said immediately. "The instructions said it would take four hours, but we worked faster."
"We?"
"Rosie helped me build it."
Lena blinked. "Rosie? When..."
"Right now!" Martin turned toward the far end of the room, where a heavy curtain separated the play area from a reading nook.
He walked over and pulled it back with a flourish. "Here she is!"
A little girl tumbled out from behind the curtain, full of energy.
She was small, maybe ten or eleven years old with bright pink cheeks, sparkling green eyes, and a shock of long curly red hair that tumbled down past her waist in wild, untamed waves.
"Hi!" she yelled, way too loud. "I'm Rosalyn, but my friends call me Rosie!"
Before Lena could respond, Rosie marched right up to her and grabbed her hand, shaking it vigorously with both of hers.
"It's nice to meet you..."
"You have something on your face," Rosie interrupted, leaning in close and squinting at Lena's cheek. "Did someone hit you?"
"Rosie!" Martin's voice went sharp with disapproval. "That's rude."
Rosie's eyes went wide. "Oh. Sorry." She didn't look particularly sorry. "Does it hurt?"
Martin sighed heavily, rolled his eyes and walked over to take Rosie's hands.
He pulled her back, away from Lena's face, even as Rosie dragged her feet and tried to keep inspecting the bruise.
"Let me talk to your tutor," Rosie complained, reaching toward Lena. "She's so nice!"
"You can talk to her without invading her personal space," Martin said primly.
Lena couldn't help it, she had to laugh.
They were such polar opposites.
Martin, careful and wary of every social rule, Rosie, loud and impulsive.
It was like one of those situations where an extrovert found an introvert and just decided to adopt them.
Martin finally managed to get Rosie back toward the centre of the room.
He walked over to the refrigerator, a small mini-fridge Mrs Dawson always kept stocked with juice boxes and snacks, and pulled off a sticky note that had been stuck to the door.
He read it slowly, carefully, putting the words together one by one.
"Dear Lena, I am rewarding my son, Martin for doing so well on his English test, by let... letting Rosie come over for a sleepover. Please keep an eye on them until I... until I get back."
He looked up from the note, his expression serious. "She said she had to go greet someone at the airport. My cousin Noah is coming back home today."
Lena's eyebrows rose. "Cousin?"
She hadn't known Martin had a cousin. Mrs. Dawson had never mentioned anyone named Noah.
Then again, the Dawsons were a wealthy family, it made sense they'd have extended relatives she didn't know about.
A thought occurred to her, and she felt a small stab of worry, believing Noah was a little kid just like them.
Would she be expected to babysit three kids tonight when Noah arrived?
Would Mrs. Dawson just drop another child on her without warning?
Before she could dwell on it, Rosie had already jumped on the couch.
But she didn't sit like a normal person.
Instead, she stood on the armrest, balancing on one leg while she grabbed the TV remote.
"Rosie, what are you doing?" Martin called out.
"Watching TV!" She clicked through channels rapidly, finally landing on some old reruns of iCarly.
Martin walked over and settled onto the couch cushion beside her or rather, below her, since she was still standing on the armrest.
"Sit down properly," he said. "You'll fall off."
"I won't fall off. I have perfect balance."
"And I thought we were going to watch Thomas and Friends."
"Thomas is boring," Rosie declared. "This is way better."
"Thomas is not boring. It's educational and age-appropriate, plus there's trains."
"You're so boring, you sound like a teacher."
"Give me the remote."
They started wrestling over the remote, Rosie trying to keep it out of Martin's reach while he attempted to grab it.
Lena watched them struggle, pulling up a chair to settle in.
A faint smile tugged at her lips despite everything that had happened today.
There was something deeply comforting about watching kids just be kids; no agendas, and no cruelty, only simple arguments over the TV remote.
She checked her phone. The time read 7:04 PM.
One more hour of this and they would eventually tire themselves out.
Then she'd have to get them ready for bed at 8:00 PM sharp, Mrs. Dawson was strict about bedtime routines, especially for Martin.
How much trouble could they get into in one hour?