Chapter 2 - THE GUARDIANSHIP PAPER WITH MY FORGED NAME
I landed in Atlanta sixteen hours after learning I was supposedly the temporary guardian of three children.
The London meeting happened without me.
My manager, Priya Nair, did not ask for details beyond “family emergency.”
She said one thing.
“Take care of what is real. We’ll handle what is scheduled.”
I nearly cried in the Heathrow lounge.
Instead, I changed my return flight.
At Hartsfield, Aaron met me outside baggage claim.
“You look awful.”
“I slept upright beside a man who snored like a chainsaw.”
“Welcome home.”
“Kids?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“Short-term licensed foster placement last night.”
I stopped walking.
“Foster care?”
“Emergency placement.”
“Why not Mom?”
“She declined overnight care initially, then changed her mind after Marcus was arrested.”
“Of course.”
“A caseworker also had concerns after reviewing the guardianship document.”
“What concerns?”
“The notary.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Aaron handed me a copy.
TEMPORARY GUARDIANSHIP AUTHORIZATION.
Marcus Williams.
Rebecca Williams.
Kendra Williams.
My signature looked good.
Very good.
The notary stamp belonged to Denise Williams.
My mother.
I stared at it.
“She notarized my forged signature.”
“That appears to be the document.”
“She knows my signature.”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell CPS I signed?”
“Initially.”
I looked up.
“Initially?”
“She now says Marcus brought her a document you had already signed.”
“She notarized without me present.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not how notarization works.”
“I am delighted to hear you remain employable.”
“Aaron.”
“Yes. It’s a problem.”
We drove directly to the child-services office.
Tasha Reynolds met us in a conference room.
Mid-forties.
Gray cardigan.
No nonsense.
“Ms. Williams, before anything else, you are not required to accept placement.”
“Thank you.”
“The children are not your responsibility merely because relatives named you.”
“Thank you again.”
“The goal is a safe family placement if possible, but only if safe and voluntary.”
I felt something unclench.
I had expected another system to tell me family meant yes.
Tasha did not.
She continued.
“Your parents have asked to be considered.”
“Are they?”
“Under review.”
“Because of the notary form?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
“The children’s records.”
My stomach tightened.
“What records?”
“School.”
She opened a folder.
All three children attended a charter school in Decatur.
Emergency contact:
Kendra Williams.
That was true.
Primary alternate pickup:
Kendra Williams.
Also true.
Then:
Secondary residence:
452 Maple Street.
False.
I had never authorized my home as their secondary residence.
“Since when?”
“January.”
Eight months earlier.
Tasha continued.
“The pediatric practice has the same address.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“We’re not saying you did.”
“Who submitted it?”
“The parent portal account.”
“Marcus or Becky.”
“Yes.”
My phone number appeared.
An old number I had stopped using eighteen months earlier.
It still forwarded to voicemail.
“Why would they change their records to my house?”
“We don’t know.”
I hated that answer already.
Tasha turned another page.
“Temporary guardian listed in the school system.”
Me.
Effective:
September 1.
The following Monday.
Not this weekend.
Not three days.
September 1 through February 28.
Six months.
I stared at it.
“This is not a Napa weekend.”
Aaron nodded slowly.
“No.”
Tasha said, “That’s why we need to understand what the parents intended.”
My heart pounded.
“Where are Marcus and Becky?”
“In California pending extradition/return proceedings. Their attorneys are coordinating.”
“Are they coming back?”
“They will have to address the Georgia case.”
“Kids?”
“We can arrange a supervised visit with you today if you want.”
I hesitated.
I had spent the flight practicing no.
No custody.
No family rescue.
No letting everyone turn this into Kendra fixes Marcus again.
Then I remembered Ruby’s wet hair.
Leo standing between his sisters and a stranger’s door.
“Yes.”
Tasha nodded.
“No commitment beyond the visit.”
“Okay.”
The children came in ten minutes later.
Ruby ran at me.
I barely got out of the chair before she hit my waist.
“Aunt Kendra!”
She started sobbing.
Maya followed.
Leo did not.
He stood near the door.
Eleven years old.
Trying desperately not to be one of the children.
I hugged the girls.
Then looked at him.
“Hey.”
He shrugged.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
He wasn’t.
“Did you know I moved?”
His eyes dropped.
“Dad said you were lying.”
I swallowed.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you say things when you’re mad.”
Of course.
“What did you think was happening?”
Leo shrugged again.
“Vacation.”
“For how long?”
He looked at Tasha.
Then me.
“Dad said not to ask.”
My chest tightened.
Maya said, “He said Aunt Kendra has rules but we have to listen.”
“For the weekend?” I asked.
Maya looked confused.
“No.”
Leo snapped, “Maya.”
I turned to him.
“It’s okay.”
He stared at the floor.
Ruby whispered, “We brought school stuff.”
I froze.
“What school stuff?”
“My backpack.”
“You always bring your backpack?”
“No.”
Maya said, “Mom packed our birth papers too.”
Aaron and Tasha exchanged looks.
“Birth certificates?” I asked.
Leo’s face tightened.
“Dad said you might need them.”
Need them.
For a weekend in Napa.
I sat across from Leo.
“What exactly did your dad say before you got into the taxi?”
He went very still.
“Leo.”
“He said if you got mad, not to worry.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d get over it.”
I nodded.
That sounded like Marcus.
Then Leo’s voice dropped.
“He said you always do.”
That hurt because it was true.
I had always gotten over it.
Or behaved as though I had.
Tasha brought in the children’s suitcases.
With permission, we looked through them together.
Not rummaging.
Inventory.
Clothes.
Not three days.
At least two weeks.
School uniforms.
Rain jackets.
Favorite blankets.
Medication.
Ruby’s stuffed rabbit.
Maya’s reading folder.
Leo’s soccer cleats.
At the bottom of Leo’s suitcase was a large manila envelope.
Tasha opened it.
Certified copies of birth certificates.
Immunization records.
Insurance cards.
School enrollment letters.
A photocopy of Marcus’s driver’s license.
Becky’s.
And another copy of the temporary guardianship form.
Six months.
My forged signature.
Then a typed page.
INSTRUCTIONS FOR KENDRA.
School pickup codes.
Pediatrician.
Leo’s allergy schedule.
Maya’s orthodontist appointment in October.
Ruby’s kindergarten conference in November.
I read the last one twice.
November.
The Napa weekend was in August.
At the bottom, Marcus had typed:
Mom and Dad can help when needed, but Kendra is primary.
My hands went cold.
May you like
He had not packed children for a weekend.
He had packed a household for transfer.
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