A Safe Place to Stand
“My legal name is still Hayes,” I said.
Inside, Travis and Patricia had boxed up my clothes, my jewelry, my tax documents — even Ruby’s birth certificate.
Patricia sat in the living room, still wearing my mother’s pearls. “They were going to be mine eventually,” she said.
I walked toward her. “Take them off.” She laughed.
My father never moved, but his voice carried through the whole room. “Patricia, those pearls were the last anniversary gift I gave my wife before she died.” The laughter died instantly. Patricia unclasped the necklace and set it back in my hand.
While the officers photographed the packed boxes, Denise noticed a folder beside Travis’s computer.