I turned to the next page.
The first few lines were about the children's schedules.
Sadie had preschool on certain mornings.
The other children had activities.
There were notes about pickup times and meals.
Todd had written everything down carefully.
It looked like a work schedule.
Not a family arrangement.
I touched Sadie's name.
"She likes spending time with me."
Michelle nodded.
"I know."
"I like spending time with her too."
"I know, Mom."
I looked at my daughter.
"Then why did you make it sound like I needed to earn that time?"
She began crying.
Not loudly.
She simply covered her mouth and looked down.
Todd reached toward her shoulder.
She moved slightly away.
I noticed it.
So did he.
"Michelle," I said softly.
She wiped her face.
"I didn't know how to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
She looked at Todd.
Then back at me.
"We've been struggling to keep everything organized."
I waited.
"Not just with money. With time."
She explained that their work schedules had become difficult.
Todd had been working longer shifts.
She had responsibilities of her own.
The children's activities filled most afternoons.
There were days when they barely had time to sit down together.
I listened.
I understood more than she probably realized.
Raising a family was hard.
I had done it with less money than they had.
I remembered packing lunches before dawn and preparing supper after a full day at the lumberyard.
I remembered washing clothes late at night.
I remembered counting coins before grocery shopping.
But I had never expected my mother to move into my basement and become the solution to every difficult part of my life.
"I could have helped with the children," I said.
Michelle nodded.
"I know."
"I could have helped sometimes."
"I know."
"But four days every week isn't sometimes."
She looked at her hands.
"No."
I waited for her to say something else.
She didn't.
Todd turned the legal pad toward himself.
"I think I made a mistake in how I approached this."
I looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I focused on the numbers before thinking about what it would mean for you."
I nodded slowly.
"That's exactly what you did."
He looked ashamed.
I didn't enjoy seeing him uncomfortable.
But I wasn't going to make the truth softer just to protect his feelings.
I turned another page.
This one contained a list of possible household expenses.
There was a section about food.
Another about heating.
Then I noticed something written beside the basement room.
Storage to be cleared.
I looked toward Todd.
"Were you going to clear the room before I moved in?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Before November."
I nodded.
Then I noticed another line.
Possible furniture from farmhouse.
I read it twice.
"What does this mean?"
Todd leaned forward.
"We thought we could move some of your furniture down there."
"Some?"
"Your bed. Maybe the dresser."
I looked at him.
"And the rest?"
"We didn't know yet."
I thought about the farmhouse.
The old kitchen table.
Dale's photograph.
The cabinet he had repaired with a piece of wood from the barn.
I imagined those things being carried into a basement room where I would spend four days a week watching children and trying not to disturb anybody upstairs.
I felt tired.
Not angry.
Just tired.
Michelle reached for my hand.
"Mom, I really did want you close."
I let her hold it.
"I know you love the children."
"I do."
"And I love you."
She started crying again.
"But I don't want to feel like I'm paying to be part of your family."
She squeezed my fingers.
"You wouldn't have been."
I looked at the legal pad.
"Then why did you put a price on it?"
She had no answer.
Todd stood up and walked toward the window.
Outside, a grain truck passed.
Its engine made the window vibrate slightly.
He watched it disappear.
Then he turned around.
"I need to tell you something else."
I waited.
He looked at Michelle.
She nodded.
He returned to the table.
"The $800 wasn't just about the expenses."
I looked at him carefully.
"What else was it about?"
He sat down.
"I thought if we made the arrangement official, everybody would know what was expected."
"Expected of me?"
"Of everybody."
I didn't interrupt.
He continued.
"I was worried we'd have disagreements later. About money. About childcare. About household responsibilities."
I looked at Michelle.
She was still holding my hand.
I understood the problem he was trying to avoid.
But he had tried to avoid it by creating a system where I had very little room to say no.
"Did you think I would refuse to help?"
Todd looked down.
"I didn't know."
"Then you should have asked."
He nodded.
I sat quietly for a moment.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting in my mind since they arrived.
"Why did you come here tonight?"
Michelle looked at Todd.
He answered.
"Because after you moved, we realized something."
"What?"
He glanced at the legal pad.
"We had been talking about what you could do for us."
He paused.
"We hadn't really talked about what we could do for you."
I looked at him.
That was the first thing he had said all evening that sounded different.
Not an explanation.
Not a defense.
An admission.
Michelle wiped her cheeks.
"I miss you, Mom."
I looked at her.
"I miss you too."
"I didn't think you'd actually move."
I almost smiled.
"Where did you think I would go?"
She didn't answer.
Perhaps she had imagined I would eventually accept.
Perhaps she had believed that because she was my daughter, I would choose her house regardless of the conditions.
I didn't know.
And I didn't want to guess.
I pulled my hand away gently.
"I need you both to understand something."
They looked at me.
"I didn't move because I wanted to punish anybody."
Michelle nodded.
"I know."
"I moved because I needed a home."
I looked around my little kitchen.
"And I found one."
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: I Had Spent Ten Days Wondering Whether I Had Lost My Daughter, Until Todd Turned to a Page He Had Almost Crossed Out
My Daughter Had a Price for Giving Her Widowed Mother a Place to Sleep, and I Had to Decide What My Years Were Worth
Part 6 of 20
