Page 10

See the self-involved woman beside me with the long stick-straight bleached-blonde hair? Her name is Alexandra Rae Johnson, soon to be Alexandra Rae Campbell. She’s been given everything from the Mercedes she pulled up in, to her beachfront condo overlooking Santa Barbara. See the tender blush under her golden skin? She’s upset I’ve denied her to hold her niece, to comfort her, to be the center of attention.
Do you, like me, take notice in the face full of strength and shining with an unfaltering and unflustered peace? Had she not gotten the same news I had?
I’m nothing like Alexandra. Never have been. She’s together, a thing of perfection, beauty, grace. . . . I’m awkwardly existing, a misunderstood mental drifter, happiest in deep thought. Standing with others, like the child in my arms, I’m miles away from everyone. It’s not that I don’t like people, because I do. I just prefer to see their joy rather than blind myself with it.
Lightheaded with emotion, I twist slightly, my boots creating another squeak.
Alexandra notices the blood on River’s dress, tiny blotches of crimson. “Is she okay? She wasn’t hurt, was she?”
I shake my head. “No. I guess she has a couple bruises, but other than that, nothing. They did a bunch of exams on her and everything came back fine. Just in shock, I imagine.”
River remains quiet in my arms, never acknowledging Alexandra’s presence in the room. It’s as if nothing besides my hair she’s playing with is in the room.
“What are we going to do?” I’m looking to Alexandra as my older sister for security, reassurance, something other than this ache in my chest I fear will never heal.
“I don’t know at the moment.” Alexandra’s chin shakes, struggling to maintain an even, conciliatory tone. Terrance, her fiancé, reaches for her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. She cries against his shoulder, burying her head in his chest. “I can’t believe this happened. It’s just so terrible.”
Terrible? It’s worse than that.
I remain holding River. Our eyes catch as a social worker steps forward. “Does River have grandparents who can take her until Mr. and Mrs. Taylor’s attorney can be contacted?”
“I will take her,” Alexandra says immediately, before I can even open my mouth. “Cullen’s parents died a few years ago. Our parents are in Germany until the end of the week. I’ve spoken with them and they’re on their way back.”
I didn’t call my parents. I’m not even sure why. I just didn’t. Probably because I didn’t want to see my father, and my mother’s reaction would be the same as Alexandra. The need to control the situation to avoid the reality.
“I can take her,” I offer, still keeping my hold on her.
River doesn’t move her head. She twirls my purple locks around her finger, then unwinds it, a process she repeats many times. It’s comforting to her. A distraction.
After a long pause—during which Alexandra sweeps her eyes to mine, then the social worker—she shakes her head, cold sarcasm dripping from her words, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Do you notice my expression? The way my heart drums wildly and my grip tightens on River? I’m not letting her take her. There’s a reason why I’m the one that was always asked to babysit when Ava and Cullen needed someone. River loves me. In her entire three years on this earth, Alexandra has watched her once. And she called me for help when River wouldn’t stop crying when she vacuumed cracker crumbs from her dress.
“I think it’s better I take her back to her home and put her in her own bed,” I insist, returning my sister’s impatient tone. “She needs a sense of comfort and going to your place in Santa Barbara isn’t comforting to her. Her own bed, her home. . . that’s what she needs.”
I want to point out that there’s no way River will even go to her, but I’ll save that for when she tries to take her from me.
Shocked I stood up to her, Alexandra stares at me, speechless for a moment. Terrance does the same, and if you look close enough at him, you can see he’s proud of what I did. It’s something he’s certainly never done to his soon-to-be wife. He gives her anything and everything she’s wanting.
The social worker, who brought me into the room with River, agrees. “Amberly’s right. It’s best to have her in her own bed if that’s possible. She needs to feel safe and secure.”
“I was house-sitting their dog, Kona. I’ve been staying there for the last week.”
The social worker gives me a card with her name on it. Gwen Perry. “Monday morning you should be contacted by Cullen and Ava’s attorney and child protective services to discuss guardianship of River. In instances like this, if there wasn’t a will in place designating custody of the minor, we urge grandparents to seek custody of the child, or an aunt or uncle.”
I nod, and Alexandra looks as though she’s contemplating having this woman’s career ruined for suggesting I take River.
Shifting River in my arms, I motion to her bear that fell on the floor. “Do you want to grab your bear and I can take you home to your bed?”
Distant eyes stay locked on my hair, twirling, unwinding, repeating. She nods but doesn’t speak or answer. She’s in shock. She has to be.
I gather her up, her bear, her blanket, and I take her to my car. I realize I don’t have a car seat for her. I look to the social worker who followed us outside. “I don’t have a car seat. They had it with them.”
Gwen nods. “You’ll have to contact the Santa Monica Police Department to gather their belongings from the accident, but in the meantime, I think we might have one you can use.” She takes a step, then turns to face me. “The car seat they had can’t be used again. You’ll have to throw it away.”
“Excuse me?” I have these images in my head. Ones where the car seat had been destroyed or it’s covered in her parent’s blood. My stomach tightens waiting for her response.
“Once you’re in a car accident you have to replace the child’s seat.”