Chapter 10
Back inside the house, Clara moved with urgent, hushed precision. She knew Richard and Evelyn were still occupied outside with Arthur, but their window of distraction would not last long. She headed straight for the small office nook in the hallway where her parents kept their filing cabinet, hoping against hope that her mother hadn't locked the bottom drawer. Her hands trembled as she knelt on the hardwood, wincing as her brace scraped against the floor. She gently pulled on the handle of the bottom drawer. To her immense relief, it slid open with a soft metallic hiss. Inside rested a thick cardboard accordion folder labeled with her maiden name. Clara flipped open the tab, her eyes scanning the contents with desperate speed. There was her original birth certificate, Toby’s birth records, her marriage license, and copies of medical bills paid under her name.
At the very bottom of the folder lay her passport and driver’s license, items she hadn't seen since the aftermath of the accident when her parents had insisted on 'safekeeping' them. Clara scooped up the documents, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She slid them into the deep interior pocket of her gray cardigan, pressing them flat against her chest. Just as she pushed the drawer closed, she heard the front gate latch click shut with a metallic snap. Footsteps echoed heavily on the front porch. Panic surged through her veins. She scrambled to her feet, relying on her crutches to propel herself down the hallway just as the front door swung open. Evelyn stepped into the entryway, brushing dirt from her gardening gloves, her eyes locking onto Clara with immediate suspicion.
Evelyn stopped dead in her tracks, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed Clara standing near the office nook. She asked sharply what Clara was doing lurking around the filing cabinet. Clara forced her expression into a mask of calm fatigue, explaining that she was just looking for a spare roll of tape to mend one of Toby’s school books. Evelyn glared at her, clearly unconvinced, and demanded to see the tape. Thinking fast, Clara pointed to the small side table where a roll of scotch tape conveniently sat. Evelyn walked over, inspecting the table before turning her icy gaze back to her daughter, warning her to stay out of private family business. Clara murmured an acquiescent reply and hobbled away toward her bedroom. Once safely inside, she locked the door, pulled the documents from her cardigan, and hid them inside the lining of her pillowcase. She had secured the keys to her freedom.
