Chapter 13 - THE NAME ON THE DIVORCE PAPERS
At twenty-eight weeks, Amy met with a divorce attorney in Portland.
Her name was Susan Keller.
She was calm, practical, and uninterested in drama.
“You don’t need to decide today.”
“I know.”
Susan slid a folder across the desk.
“But you should understand your options.”
Amy read every page.
Property.
Accounts.
Foundation interests.
The apartment.
Future custody.
Amy’s hands paused over the word dissolution.
Seven years could fit inside one legal word.
She thought that would make her cry.
It did not.
Instead she felt tired.
“What happens if I file?”
“Daniel is served.”
“And if he contests?”
“Then it gets longer.”
Amy almost smiled.
“He won’t.”
She believed that now.
Susan looked at her carefully.
“Do you want the marriage to end?”
Amy stared at the papers.
“I want the marriage we had to end.”
“That isn’t exactly the same question.”
“No.”
Amy closed the folder.
“That’s why I’m here.”
That evening, she called Daniel.
“I met with an attorney.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Okay.”
She waited for the argument.
It never came.
“I have divorce papers.”
Daniel inhaled slowly.
“Have you signed them?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to?”
Amy’s eyes closed.
“There you go again.”
“What?”
“Asking me to make every decision.”
Daniel understood.
“You’re right.”
He paused.
“If you send them, I’ll review them.”
Amy leaned back.
“You won’t fight?”
“Not over money.”
“Custody?”
Daniel’s voice changed.
“I want to be her father.”
“You will be.”
“But I’m not going to use lawyers to punish you.”
Amy swallowed.
“Thank you.”
Daniel continued.
“And if you decide divorce is what you need, I won’t make you prove why.”
That sentence hurt unexpectedly.
Because it was kind.
Because it came too late.
Because part of Amy still loved the man finally saying it.
After the call, she sat alone for nearly an hour.
Then she opened the divorce folder.
She signed one page.
Not the final petition.
A financial disclosure authorization.
One step.
The next morning, Daniel received an email from Susan Keller.
He opened the attachment.
Amy Bennett Harrison.
Seeing her full name on legal paperwork made something inside him drop.
He stared at the middle name.
Bennett.
Amy had used Harrison for seven years.
He suddenly wondered if she would take Bennett back.
For years, Daniel had believed losing Amy meant losing a wife.
Now he realized he might also lose the privilege of being attached to her name.
He closed the document.
Then he called his attorney.
“Give her everything she asks for.”
His attorney paused.
“Within reason?”
Daniel looked at the ultrasound photograph beside his computer.
“No.”
May you like
He remembered all the years Amy had given him.
“Within fairness.”
