Chapter 5: The Church Parking Lot at Four
Adrian stood at foot of marble staircase before sunrise. Keys in hand. Gray suit jacket off, sleeves pushed up, same striped tie loosened from night before. He didn't look at gold mirror. Looked at me.
He offered ride. Reason simple: my car still at shop on county road, bus didn't run early enough for daycare pickup line.
I hesitated. Box still on floor beside my door. Deadline pressed. 8am tomorrow Isabella wanted me gone.
I said no at first. Said I could walk.
He shook head. Said county road had no sidewalk, gas station traffic heavy at that hour. Said he drove that way anyway.
That was lie. I knew. He drove no direction but mine. I nodded anyway. Grabbed Lily's spare jacket. Left box behind. Locked door.
County road stretched gray in early light. Heat already rising off asphalt. Adrian's SUV smelled like leather and coffee. He drove steady, hands at ten and two. Didn't fill silence with questions. That helped.
We passed diner on Route 17, neon sign still buzzing, OPEN. Truckers inside at counter. Waitress refilled coffee pot. Next to it, gas station with flickering price board, 3.59 for regular. Same station where I bought milk when Lily had fever last winter. I stared out window so I wouldn't stare at him.
He asked what time pickup started. I told him four. Church daycare let out at four, parking lot filled by 3:40 with moms idling. He nodded. Asked which church. I said First Baptist on Old Mill, white building with peeling sign.
He asked nothing about father. Nothing about eyes. Silence held weight anyway.
Parking lot filled fast. Moms in minivans, engines running, kids' stickers on rear windows. Playground chain-link fence rattled each time wind hit. I checked clock on dash. 3:58.
Door of white building opened. Teacher Ms. Carla came out holding Lily's hand.
Lily wore yellow t-shirt, denim shorts, sneakers with one lace double-knotted. Hair pulled back messy like mine. She held small pink backpack dragging on ground.
She saw me. Eyes lit. Ran.
I knelt on hot asphalt. She hit my chest hard. Arms around neck. Smelled like crayons and apple juice.
Adrian stayed back. Stood by SUV door. Didn't move.
Lily pulled back. Looked past me. Saw him.
She stared. He stared.
His breath caught. Audible. Small pause before inhale. I heard it.
His mother's eyes. Same shape I'd seen in framed photo upstairs when dusting office. Same pale gray-blue, same heavy lids. On Lily's face they looked huge. On his face they looked tired.
He didn't speak. Crouch didn't either. Just looked.
Lily clung tighter to my neck. Turned face into my collar. Shy with strangers. Always shy first minute. Then curious. Not today. Today she buried face and gripped jacket.
I rubbed her back. Whispered hey baby, this is Mr. Adrian, he gave mama ride.
She didn't lift head. Whispered back, want go home.
Adrian knelt then. Slow. Kept distance. Said hi Lily. Voice low. Said he liked her backpack.
She peeked one eye out. Didn't answer. Pressed closer to me.
He smiled. Small smile. Didn't push. Stood again. Gave space.
Ms. Carla walked over. Clipboard in hand. Looked at Adrian, then at me. Asked if everything okay.
I nodded. Said friend gave ride.
She checked Lily off list. Said Lily ate all her crackers today. Said see tomorrow.
We buckled Lily into borrowed car seat Adrian had put in back. I didn't ask when he got it. He must have bought it that morning. Still had plastic smell. He adjusted straps careful, hands steady, didn't touch Lily more than needed. She watched his hands. Didn't cry.
Phone buzzed in his pocket as he closed door.
He checked screen. Jaw tightened.
Isabella texted. I saw name flash. Message preview: Where are you? Caterer here. Gala prep now. Need you back.
Second buzz: Don't be late. We have image to protect.
He typed nothing. Slipped phone back in pocket. Looked at me through window. Said we should go before lot cleared.
May you like
I nodded. Held Lily's hand across seat.
He drove back toward mansion. Didn't speak about eyes. Didn't need to. Silence said it. Road ahead empty except heat shimmer over asphalt. Deadline still ticking behind us.
