Chapter 3 - The House With Yellow Curtains
Mara did not go home with the Morettis.
That surprised Alessandro less after Dana explained the process.
It disappointed Mara more than she expected.
The next morning, she heard voices discussing a foster placement and assumed she had done something wrong.
When Dana found her shoving the hospital socks into a paper bag, Mara would not look up.
“I didn’t ask for anything.”
“I know.”
“I can pay for the window later.”
Dana sat beside the bed.
“The Morettis are not sending you away. There are procedures for deciding where a child lives. People don’t get to skip them because they’re grateful.”
Mara tied the bag handles together.
“So they don’t want me.”
Dana waited until she looked up.
“That isn’t what this means.”
Children who have been disappointed often become experts at hearing rejection in neutral sentences.
Dana seemed to know that.
She explained the next step carefully.
A licensed foster caregiver named June Bennett had agreed to receive Mara temporarily. She lived nearby, had worked with frightened children before, and knew that Mara needed clear information about doors, visitors, and where adults would be at night.
Mara listened.
Then she asked the only question that mattered.
“Does she lock bedrooms?”
“No.”
The house had yellow curtains.
Mara noticed them before she noticed June.
They were bright enough to look unreasonable beneath the gray sky.
June stood on the porch in a knitted sweater, holding no camera and wearing no expression of exaggerated sympathy.
“Hello, Mara.”
Mara stayed beside Dana.
“I’ve got soup,” June said. “You can eat now or later. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall. I’ll show you your room before we do anything else.”
No speech about being grateful.
No rules recited before she crossed the threshold.
Inside, June pointed out every exit.
Mara kept her face blank.
June did not comment.
The bedroom contained a bed, a lamp, a small desk, and curtains with blue birds.
There was no lock on the outside.
Mara checked twice.
June stood in the doorway.
“You can close it when you want privacy.”
“What if you need to come in?”
“I’ll knock.”
“What if I don’t answer?”
“If I’m worried you’re hurt, I’ll tell you I’m coming in. Otherwise, we’ll talk about it.”
Mara looked at her.
Adults at Ridgeline had called questions defiance.
June answered them as though answers cost nothing.
That evening, Mara ate two bowls of soup.
Then she hid three crackers in her sleeve.
June saw.
Mara knew she saw.
But instead of taking them away, June brought a small basket to the bedroom.
“Food you can keep here. We’ll refill it.”
Mara stared at the crackers, granola bars, and apples.
“For how long?”
“For as long as you need.”
The Morettis visited two days later with Dana’s approval.
Camille still moved slowly.
Alessandro carried a bag containing Mara’s backpack, recovered from the cliff, cleaned and dried.
Mara took it immediately.
Everything important was inside.
A photograph of her mother.
A broken pencil.
A paperback missing its cover.
A small cloth rabbit with one ear shorter than the other.
Camille did not ask why she hugged the bag.
She simply sat on the sofa and waited.
They talked about ordinary things.
June’s terrible television reception.
The birds outside the kitchen window.
The fact that Alessandro could not make toast without monitoring it as though it were a business negotiation.
Mara almost smiled.
Then she asked, “Are you really a mafia boss?”
The room became quiet.
Someone at the hospital had whispered it near her door.
Someone else had searched his name on a phone.
Alessandro looked at Camille.
Then he looked back at Mara.
“I used to lead a criminal organization.”
June remained seated.
Dana had insisted that no one lie if Mara asked directly.
“Did you hurt people?”
“Yes.”
Camille’s face tightened, but she did not interrupt.
Alessandro continued.
“I went to prison. I came home years ago. I still have people trying to use my old name and connections. I’ve spent too long believing I could keep parts of that life separate.”
Mara considered him.
“Are you going to hurt Mr. Lang?”
“No.”
“Even if he hurt me?”
“People with legal authority need to investigate him. My wanting to punish him doesn’t make me the right person to do it.”
She looked down at the rabbit.
“Good.”
Alessandro’s eyes filled.
“Good?”
“If you went away, she’d be sad.”
Camille reached for his hand.
Outside, rain began tapping against the windows.
Mara glanced toward the bedroom hallway.
June noticed.
“Your door’s still open.”
May you like
Mara nodded.
For the first time, she believed it might stay that way.
