Part 4 — On Christmas morning, my daughter-in-law smashed my children’s gifts, but she saw something on the tablet screen and turned pale

He had been standing beside the family members all this time… and while everyone’s gaze moved among one another, Garrett slowly realized that his father, Richard, was no longer in the room.

His hat was lying in the hallway.

And the door had been left open.

“Where is Dad?” Garrett asked.

No one answered.

The police officer immediately went outside. My father ran to the window and saw fresh tire tracks in the snow.

“He left by car,” he said.

I took Melody and Tyler into the kitchen. I put coats on the children, even though it was warm in the house. My hands were still trembling, but I no longer wanted them to see it.

“Mom, is Grandpa bad?” Tyler asked me.

I looked into his eyes.

“Grandpa made very bad decisions. But now we are safe.”

That was not completely true.

Not yet.

Jessica sat in the living room with the black bag on her knees. Garrett stood in front of her, as if all the lies accumulated between them over the years had collapsed at once.

“Tell me, how long have you known about your father?” he asked.

“I did not know that he would threaten the children.”

“But you knew that he was taking money illegally.”

“I knew he was doing something. I did not know what.”

“And the jewelry?”

Jessica lowered her eyes.

“I took it. But Richard told me that your mother herself would accuse me. He prepared the document and told me that if I did not hand over the jewelry, he would spread everything about you.”

“What about me?”

“About your debt. About your treatment expenses. About the loan that was accumulated in your name.”

Garrett leaned against the wall.

“You took out a loan in my name, but Dad took the money?”

Jessica nodded.

“He told me he would destroy your career if I spoke up.”

The police officer returned.

“We could not find the car, but we have the number from the road cameras. We have also sent a request to the mobile operator.”

Jessica suddenly took a phone from her bag.

“He will call me.”

The phone immediately rang.

Everyone in the room fell silent.

The police officer raised his hand.

“Put it on speaker.”

Jessica answered.

“Richard?”

Heavy breathing sounded from the other side.

“Where is the jewelry?” the man asked.

Jessica looked at Garrett.

“The police are here.”

“Then say goodbye to the children.”

Tyler moved closer to me. Melody silently clutched my hand.

The police officer put a finger to his lips and pointed at the phone.

“You yourself told me that no one would be hurt,” Jessica said.

“You have no right to set conditions for me.”

“You forced me.”

“You were always weak.”

Jessica’s face collapsed. For the first time she heard her own words the way we heard them. She herself had said that she was lying to Garrett, that the jewelry was in her bag, and that she had needed to frighten the children. And Richard was now revealing her weakness in his own voice.

The police officer recorded the call. A second group arrived a few minutes later.

They found Richard at the exit from the city. In the car he had another bag resembling the brown velvet bag, false transfer documents, and my children’s school schedule.

Jessica immediately fell into the chair.

“I did not know that he was watching the school.”

“But you knew that he was threatening them,” I told her.

“Anna, please.”

“No.”

I said this word calmly.

But for the first time Jessica understood that I would no longer save her.

Richard was arrested for threats, forgery, and theft. A case was also started against Jessica, because she had taken the jewelry and had initially lied to the investigation. Garrett called a lawyer that same evening.

“I am no longer going to defend her,” he said. “Neither her nor my father.”

The lawyer refused to represent Jessica when he saw copies of the memory card and the audio recording. He said that the case was much more serious than a family quarrel.

That night I entered my mother’s room.

The wardrobe was open.

Only a rectangle of dust remained on the shelves, where the bag of emeralds had lain. Melody had left her pink tablet on the bed. On the screen the same red paper star that Tyler had cut out for the Christmas tree was still visible.

Mother held the jewelry in her hands and did not move for a long time.

“This was saved for Melody,” she said.

“Now it will still be beside her.”

“Someday I will make her a little box.”

“No, Mom,” I told her. “For now, let us simply live.”

Several weeks later Richard sent a letter. He wrote that he regretted everything, that the family was most precious to him, and that Jessica had also made a mistake.

I read the letter to the end.

Then I gave it to my mother.

“Won’t you write an answer?” she asked me.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“For the first time, I am.”

Jessica called me too. Her voice no longer had the firmness of that morning.

“Please, say in court that I was simply desperate.”

“Desperation explains why you were hurting. It does not explain why you hurt the children.”

“I have never had children.”

“I know.”

“You still cannot understand what that means.”

“Maybe I cannot understand. But I know that my children will not be given to you as payment for your pain.”

Silence fell.

“Will you ever forgive me?” she asked.

I looked at the snowy street through the window.

“Forgiveness and returning are not the same thing.”

I ended the call.

Three months later I rented a small apartment on the other side of the city. It was no longer necessary to stay with my mother, but we went to her every week. I began working at a children’s library. In the morning I arranged books, and in the evening I read fairy tales to children.

Tyler learned to repair wooden things. I made a new carriage for his train, and Melody put the science kit back together from the beginning. We could not save one glass bottle, but we bought a small plastic container instead.

One evening Melody gave me a drawing. In it, four people stood beside a Christmas tree. Above them hung a red paper star, and next to it a small black square was drawn.

“What is this?” I asked.

“A door,” she answered. “A door that will no longer open to bad people.”

Tyler put the wooden train on the table.

“Mom, is our house safe now?”

I looked at both of them.

“Yes.”

This time it was the complete truth.

On the first day of spring, Mother gave Melody a little box. Inside were the emerald jewels, but Melody immediately closed it.

“I do not want to wear them yet,” she said. “I just want to know that they are mine.”

Mother smiled.

“When you want, you will put them on.”

That same evening I sat by the kitchen window. Children were riding bicycles in the street. The smell of cinnamon filled the house. Tyler was teaching Melody how to attach the train carriage, while Melody was recording a new experiment on her tablet.

Another message from Jessica arrived on the phone.

“I want to speak to you face to face at least once. Now I understand everything.”

I looked at the screen for a long time.

Then I sent only one reply.

“I already spoke to you. You simply were not listening then.”

I put down the phone and went to the children.

We had removed the Christmas tree long ago, but I had not thrown away the red paper star. I put it in a small wooden frame beside the window. Its edges were slightly burned by the light, and in one corner Tyler’s pencil mark remained.

Melody painted a small golden dot on it.

“Now it is better,” she said.

I looked at the star and realized for the first time that it had not been broken that morning. It had simply been waiting for a place where no one could knock it down anymore.

The star was still shining.