Chapter 7 - The Paper Trail
Two weeks later, the summer heat broke, replaced by the cool, crisp winds of early September that turned the Indiana cornfields from deep green to dry, rustling yellow.
I was moved from the hospital to a small, two-bedroom sunlit apartment on the south side of Crawfordsville—a place with hardwood floors, clean white walls, and a low, comfortable sofa where I could elevate my right leg while watching the autumn leaves fall in the yard outside.
Hannah lived in the second bedroom. She had taken a full-time job as a receptionist at Dr. Mercer's clinic in town, using her first paycheck to buy groceries, baby clothes, and a set of bright yellow curtains for our living room window.
My leg was wrapped in a lightweight, modern walking cast—a light blue fiberglass shell that allowed me to move short distances on my crutches without putting weight on the healing bone.
At two o'clock on a bright Tuesday afternoon, my attorney, Marcus Vance—a sharp, fifty-year-old family lawyer from Indianapolis who was no relation to Caleb's family—sat at my kitchen table, laying out three thick stacks of legal documents across the yellow Formica surface.
"The grand jury met in Crawfordsville yesterday morning," Marcus said, pulling a pair of silver reading glasses from his coat pocket. "They returned a six-count indictment against Evelyn Vance and Caleb Vance."
I set my teacup down on a cork coaster. "What are the charges?"
"Aggravated domestic battery, unlawful restraint, neglect of a dependent, and reckless endangerment," Marcus read from the blue cover sheet. "Because you were seven months pregnant at the time of the offense, the prosecutor added an enhancement for battery on a pregnant person—a Level 3 felony in the State of Indiana."
"What about the farm?" I asked.
Marcus leaned back in his chair, a thin, satisfied smile playing around his lips.
"That's the second piece of news," Marcus said, sliding a thick blue folder across the table toward me. "We filed an emergency petition for temporary spousal support, medical expenses, and child maintenance in the Montgomery County Circuit Court last Friday."
He tapped his finger on the top document.
"Judge Harrison signed an injunction freezing all of Caleb's personal bank accounts, his share of the grain elevator revenues, and his interest in the Vance Farm LLC," Marcus explained. "Evelyn tried to transfer forty thousand dollars out of the farm account on Monday to pay Caleb's medical bills in Indianapolis. The bank blocked the wire under the court order."
"She must be screaming," Hannah murmured from the kitchen counter where she was slicing fresh apples for lunch.
"She's doing more than screaming, Hannah," Marcus said, looking over at her. "She had to hire two separate criminal defense attorneys from Indianapolis. They're charging her four hundred dollars an hour. She had to mortgage the North Barn to pay their retainer."
I reached out and touched the smooth blue cover of the legal document, feeling the raised seal of the State of Indiana embedded in the thick paper.
"When does the divorce go through?" I asked.
"Indiana has a sixty-day waiting period for dissolution of marriage," Marcus replied. "Given the pending criminal charges and the domestic violence findings in the protective order, the judge will sign the final decree three weeks after the baby is born."
He looked at my swell of my belly, which was now broad and high, eight months along, resting comfortably beneath my yellow cotton sweater.
"You will receive sixty percent of the farm's liquid assets," Marcus added quietly. "Half the value of the machinery, and full legal and physical custody of your child with zero visitation rights granted to Caleb until he completes two years of court-mandated anger management and supervised rehabilitation."
I looked out the kitchen window at the bright blue September sky.
Down on the street below, three children were riding their bicycles along the sidewalk, their laughter drifting up through the screen window into the warm, quiet room.
For six months, I had lived in a dark house where every room felt like a cage, where every conversation was an examination, and where my value as a human being was measured by how many rows of corn I could help hoe before my legs gave out.
Now, sitting in a clean room filled with the smell of fresh apples and pine cleaner, I felt something uncurling inside my chest—a dark, tight knot that had been bound tight around my lungs for three years finally letting go.
"Thank you, Marcus," I said.
"Don't thank me, Eleanor," Marcus said, packing his silver glasses back into his coat pocket. "Thank your sister-in-law. Without her affidavit and her willingness to stand up in front of that grand jury, Evelyn's lawyers would have turned this into a 'he-said, she-said' farm accident."
He stood up, shook my hand firmly, and walked out the door, his leather briefcase clicking against his knee as he went down the stairs.
Hannah brought a plate of sliced apples over to the table and sat down across from me.
She looked at the blue legal folder lying between us, her eyes gentle, her hands still.
"Are you afraid, Ellie?" she asked softly. "About the baby coming?"
May you like
I placed both of my hands over my belly, feeling the strong, steady kick of my daughter beneath my palms—a sharp, confident movement that said she was ready for whatever world was waiting for her outside.
"No," I said, looking up at Hannah with a smile that reached all the way to my eyes. "I'm not afraid of anything anymore."
