PART 2 — THE NAME THAT WAS MISSING
Carmen told me to wait until Daniel’s attorney confirmed exactly what the existing order allowed.
I documented the luggage, Celeste’s messages, the emergency folder, and the conspicuous absence of Daniel’s name.
By noon, his attorney confirmed that Daniel could take physical custody during Celeste’s absence, especially because she had left the children with a third party for three weeks without notifying him.
I asked them again whether they wanted to go.
All five said yes.
Loading my SUV took approximately three geological periods.
By 1:30, seven suitcases were packed behind us, while Mr. Pickles rode near Sophie because she was concerned he might suffocate in the cargo area.
Halfway to Baton Rouge, my phone started ringing.
Dad.
Mom.
Dad again.
Celeste.
Mason looked over.
“Aren’t you going to tell Mom?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
I considered the question.
“When her plane is too far away to turn around cheaply.”
He laughed for the first time that day.
Daniel’s front door opened before I finished parking.
Sophie recognized him through the window and screamed, “Daddy!”
She was out of the car before I could stop the engine.
Daniel ran toward her.
She launched herself into his arms, and the man simply folded around his daughter and started crying.
The twins reached him next, then Leah, then Mason.
I stood beside the SUV holding Mr. Pickles and watched a reunion my sister had spent nearly two years preventing.
Daniel finally approached me.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Celeste is going to react like a raccoon trapped inside a church organ.”
He laughed despite himself.
His mother arrived twenty minutes later.
His attorney stopped by too, and everyone checked the paperwork again.
Then my phone rang.
Celeste.
Her first flight had landed in Atlanta.
Perfect.
I answered.
