Chapter 8 - THE LIE HE TOLD HIS OWN MOTHER
"You told your mother I couldn't care for our children? Scott, are you trying to take my babies away from me?"
I asked that question twenty minutes later.
But before I called him, I had to get Diane out of my doorway.
She stood there holding the overnight bag, looking offended that I wasn't grateful.
"I came to help," she said.
"Then you should've called me first."
"Scott said you might refuse."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"He was right."
Diane glanced toward the living room.
I could hear Theo laughing at something Paige was doing.
Ava squealed.
Lucy banged a toy against the floor.
Ordinary sounds.
Happy sounds.
Yet Diane was standing in my doorway as though my children needed rescuing.
"Rachel," she began, "there's no shame in admitting you can't manage everything."
"I have never claimed I can manage everything."
"Then why are you being so defensive?"
I took a slow breath.
"Because you arrived with a bag and told me you were taking my children."
Diane looked away.
"Scott made it sound urgent."
"What exactly did he tell you?"
She hesitated.
Then she sighed.
"That you're not sleeping. That you're emotionally unstable because of the video. That the children aren't getting proper attention."
I stared at her.
"Did he tell you I've been taking them to every medical appointment?"
"No."
"Did he tell you Paige has been helping me?"
"No."
"Did he tell you he hasn't spent a full day caring for all three of them since he moved out?"
Diane looked uncomfortable.
"Rachel, I don't know every detail."
"That's the problem."
My voice remained quiet.
"You came here prepared to make a decision about my children without knowing what was happening in this house."
For the first time, Diane had no immediate response.
Paige stepped beside me.
"Diane, the kids are safe. They're loved. And Rachel is taking excellent care of them."
Diane looked from Paige to me.
Her expression softened slightly.
"Scott sounded frightened."
I nodded.
"I'm sure he did."
She frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"It means Scott is frightened about losing his promotion, his reputation, and possibly his marriage."
I swallowed.
"But he doesn't get to turn that fear into a story about me being an unfit mother."
Diane shifted the overnight bag.
After a long pause, she asked:
"Can I at least see the children?"
I hesitated.
Then I stepped aside.
"Of course. You're their grandmother."
She put the bag near the door and walked into the living room.
The moment Ava spotted her, she smiled.
Diane knelt.
"Hello, sweetheart."
Ava toddled toward her with both arms raised.
Diane picked her up.
For several minutes, she played with the triplets while Paige and I finished cleaning.
I watched from the kitchen.
Diane wasn't an unkind grandmother.
She adored the children.
She brought them books and little sweaters.
She remembered their favorite snacks.
But her love for Scott had always made it difficult for her to see his faults.
And that blindness was becoming dangerous.
When the triplets were settled for another round of play, Diane joined me in the kitchen.
She glanced at the protective underwear package I'd placed discreetly beside a basket of bathroom supplies.
Then she looked away.
I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
My entire life seemed to have become a series of people pretending not to see something they couldn't stop thinking about.
Diane cleared her throat.
"Scott told me about the video."
"I assumed he did."
"He shouldn't have joked about something so private."
I stared at her.
That was not the response I'd expected.
She looked down.
"After my hysterectomy, I had problems with leakage for almost a year."
My eyes widened.
She'd never mentioned that.
"My doctor recommended pelvic floor exercises and other treatment," she continued. "But I was embarrassed."
I leaned against the counter.
"Did Scott know?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Why not?"
Diane gave a humorless laugh.
"Because his father would've made fun of me."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Scott's father had died six years earlier.
He'd been a loud, demanding man who treated embarrassment as weakness and sarcasm as entertainment.
I'd always known Scott admired him.
But I hadn't realized how closely he was repeating his behavior.
Diane's eyes filled.
"His father used to say women complained too much after childbirth."
I felt something shift inside me.
Not forgiveness.
Understanding.
Diane had spent years accepting the same kind of cruelty she was now asking me to tolerate.
And she'd mistaken endurance for loyalty.
I spoke carefully.
"Diane, I'm sorry you went through that."
She nodded.
"But I won't teach my daughters that they're supposed to accept it."
She looked at me.
"And I won't teach Theo that embarrassing someone is how you prove you're powerful."
For a long moment, Diane said nothing.
Then she whispered:
"You're right."
I hadn't expected those words.
Neither, apparently, had she.
She looked toward the living room.
"I need to speak with Scott."
"So do I."
Diane shook her head.
"No. I mean I need to speak with him about what he told me."
She picked up her overnight bag.
At the door, she turned.
"Rachel, I didn't realize he'd been making you feel this way."
I watched her carefully.
"Now you do."
She nodded.
And left.
Afterward, I called Scott.
He answered with an irritated sigh.
"Mom said you wouldn't let her help."
"Your mother came here expecting to take the children away."
"She was offering you a break."
"Then why did you tell her I couldn't care for them?"
Silence.
"Scott?"
"I said I was worried about you."
"You told her I was unstable."
"Rachel, you've been crying all week."
I stared at the wall.
"Because you humiliated me."
"You're not hearing what I'm saying."
"No, Scott. I hear you perfectly."
He exhaled.
"I don't know how to talk to you anymore."
"Start with the truth."
Another pause.
Then he said:
"I think the kids should spend more time with me."
"That's something we can discuss."
"Good."
"But we're not making those decisions through your mother."
He sounded frustrated.
"Fine."
I hesitated.
"Scott, have you talked to a lawyer?"
His silence answered before he did.
Finally, he said:
"I've gotten some advice."
My heart began pounding.
"About what?"
"Parenting arrangements."
I closed my eyes.
"Are you asking for custody?"
"I'm asking what my options are."
"Based on what?"
He didn't answer.
I felt suddenly very tired.
"Scott, I want our children to have both parents. But I won't agree to false statements about my ability to care for them."
His voice was cold.
"Then I guess we'll have to let professionals sort things out."
He hung up.
I stood in the kitchen for several minutes.
Then I called Paige.
She answered on the first ring.
"Everything alright?"
"No."
I took a shaky breath.
"I think Scott is preparing to fight me over the kids."
Paige was quiet for a moment.
Then she said:
"Call the attorney you consulted. Don't try to handle this alone."
I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.
The following morning, I opened my email while the triplets ate breakfast.
An unfamiliar law firm's name appeared in my inbox.
The subject line read:
Proposed Temporary Parenting Arrangement — Morgan Family.
I opened the attachment.
It contained a letter outlining Scott's proposed parenting schedule.
He wanted the children to reside primarily with him during our separation, with me receiving scheduled parenting time.
His stated reason was printed in black and white.
Due to concerns regarding the mother's current emotional and physical capacity to manage the needs of three young children.
I couldn't breathe.
Scott had turned my medical recovery into an argument about whether I deserved to be my children's primary caregiver.
Then I read the final paragraph.
May you like
It requested a response within seven days.
My husband had gone from laughing at my medical condition to using it against me in a dispute over our children.
