Chapter 7 - NOT YET
The next guardianship hearing happened six weeks after the dance.
By then, Willow Creek had become ordinary again.
Mostly.
The girl in yellow was named Lily.
She stopped whispering about me after Mrs. Bennett changed the class rules about family talk.
Not because of me specifically.
She made everyone do an exercise.
Draw the people who show up for you.
Some children drew two parents.
Some drew grandparents.
One drew a neighbor.
I drew Mrs. Bennett, Mom, and Roman standing very far apart.
Mrs. Bennett did not ask why.
Good.
The court hearing was harder.
Roman’s federal investigation had become public that morning.
Reporters stood outside.
No one had charged him yet.
Still.
The words organized crime appeared on television.
Mrs. Bennett turned it off.
Good.
Judge Hart reviewed the social worker’s report.
Roman’s house met safety requirements.
His staff had passed background checks.
His criminal history was old but serious.
Current business investigation remained unresolved.
He attended every supervised visit.
Never arrived late.
Never tried to contact me outside approved channels.
Never sent money to Mrs. Bennett.
Never sent expensive gifts.
One book.
One puzzle.
A pair of mittens after asking.
Progress.
Then the judge asked his lawyer:
“Is Mr. DeLuca still seeking immediate placement?”
Naomi stood.
“No, Your Honor.”
My head snapped toward Roman.
What?
He looked at me.
I felt something inside my chest drop.
He did not want me?
Mrs. Bennett touched my shoulder.
Roman’s face changed when he saw mine.
Naomi continued.
“Mr. DeLuca requests continued visitation and future kinship consideration after resolution of his pending criminal and business matters.”
Future.
Not now.
I hated future.
Judge Hart looked at him.
“Mr. DeLuca, is that your position?”
Roman stood.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
Then the judge.
“Because Rosie has had enough adults build plans around what they need.”
My anger did not disappear.
He continued.
“My case may create instability. I could be indicted. I could face custody. Moving her into my home now because I want to be her guardian would make her absorb that uncertainty.”
The judge nodded.
“And Mrs. Bennett?”
Roman looked at her.
“She is safe there.”
Mrs. Bennett’s eyes filled.
“She is loved there.”
My throat hurt.
Then:
“I want more time with Rosie.”
He did not pretend otherwise.
“But I don’t want the court to give me what I want faster than it gives her stability.”
Good words.
I still hated them.
Judge Hart asked Ms. Cho for my position.
She leaned close.
“Do you want to speak?”
I nodded.
I stood.
My knees felt strange.
“Roman.”
He looked at me.
“You said you would come.”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you want me?”
The whole room became too quiet.
Roman’s face broke.
He sat only when the judge allowed him to come closer.
Not beside me.
Across the small table.
“Rosie.”
I stared at him.
“I do want you.”
“Then why?”
“Because wanting you is not the same as being ready to take care of you.”
That sounded horrible.
Then he added:
“And because I might have to go away for things I did before you knew me.”
Prison.
There.
“You said your old jail was a long time ago.”
“It was.”
“Then why again?”
“Different things are being investigated.”
“Did you do them?”
He took time.
“Some.”
Good.
I hated good now.
“What?”
“Money I should have reported. Businesses I allowed to collect debts in ways they should not. Pressure on people.”
“Did you hurt them?”
“Some were hurt because of orders I gave.”
There.
No child details.
Enough.
I started crying.
I hated that.
Roman did not reach across the table until I held out my hand.
Then he took it.
“What if you leave too?”
He understood.
Mom died.
Dad died.
Deborah failed.
Everyone leaves has different causes to a child.
He answered:
“If I go to prison, I will tell you before.”
That was a terrible promise.
True.
“I will write if you want letters.”
I cried harder.
“And when I am allowed to call, I will call if you want.”
“Will you come back?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
Roman looked at the judge.
Then me.
“I promise I will do everything the law allows me to do to come back.”
Not forever.
Not never leave.
Specific.
Good.
Then:
“And I will not ask you to wait for me instead of living.”
That sounded like Mom.
Maybe he had read her letter too many times.
Judge Hart gave Mrs. Bennett temporary guardianship for six months, reviewable.
Not foster placement now.
Guardianship.
She had completed the licensing and home review.
Roman received expanded unsupervised daytime visits.
No overnights yet.
Deborah received supervised monthly contact only if I agreed each time.
Her criminal case remained pending.
The trust got a permanent independent fiduciary.
Good.
After court, I refused to speak to Roman.
For eleven minutes.
He followed at a distance through the courthouse lobby.
Not too close.
Finally I turned.
“You could have told me before.”
He stopped.
“Yes.”
“You knew you were going to say not yet.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me hear it in court.”
His face changed.
“You’re right.”
Good.
“I thought telling you earlier would make you worry.”
“I worried more.”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
“Yes.”
Adults.
He crouched.
“I’m sorry.”
Real apology.
No explanation after.
That helped.
I stared at him.
Then:
“Do you still want ice cream?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“It is thirty degrees.”
“Exactly.”
We went.
Mrs. Bennett too.
No celebration.
Just chocolate.
Three weeks later, Roman was indicted.
Financial racketeering.
Tax violations.
Unlawful debt collection conspiracy.
The news called him a crime boss.
He called me that evening only after Mrs. Bennett asked if I wanted to talk.
I did.
“Are you going to run?”
I asked.
Roman sounded offended.
“No.”
“Do Mafia people run?”
“Some.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Good.
Then:
“Will you fight?”
“My lawyer will.”
“Because you didn’t do it?”
“Because some charges are broader than what I agree I did.”
That was complicated.
“What did you do?”
“I will tell the court the things I did.”
No pretending the prosecutor was automatically right or automatically lying.
Good.
The case took months.
Roman sold two companies connected to illegal collections under monitored agreements.
One closed.
Legitimate restaurants stayed open.
Freight company entered compliance supervision.
Employees kept working.
He turned over records related to old coercive debts.
Some people filed claims.
The restitution fund Janice ran stayed independent.
Roman donated?
No.
He asked whether he could contribute.
Janice said only through blind, no-control contributions and only if claims administrator approved.
He did.
No plaque.
Good.
Then Deborah’s plea happened.
She received probation, restitution obligations, and a short period of home confinement because she cooperated against Pike and Carl and had no previous record.
Some people online said too soft.
Some too harsh.
I did not read comments.
Ms. Cho made sure.
Deborah sold the SUV and condo? Apartment not condo. She sold the SUV and some personal investments to repay part of the trust.
More funds were recovered from Carl’s frozen accounts.
The trust balance climbed.
Not back to whole.
Closer.
I saw Deborah twice during those months.
The first time, she apologized again.
The second time, she asked about school instead of asking whether I forgave her.
That was better.
Then Roman made his own decision.
He reached a plea agreement.
Not immunity.
Not everything dismissed.
He admitted:
tax offenses,
participation in an unlawful debt-collection conspiracy,
and one coercive business scheme that had cost a family their company.
He agreed to forfeiture, fines, restitution, and testimony about higher-level financial structures inherited from his father.
Sentence recommendation:
sixteen months in federal custody.
I stared at Mrs. Bennett when she told me.
“Sixteen months is forever.”
“No.”
“It is when you’re eight.”
She could not argue.
Roman asked to see me before sentencing.
I almost said no.
Then yes.
We went to the aquarium.
Same shark tank.
His phone stayed off.
I asked:
“When?”
“Next month.”
“You’ll miss my birthday.”
“Yes.”
“School play.”
“Yes.”
“Next dance.”
He swallowed.
“Probably.”
I looked at the sharks.
“Then you’re not on your way.”
Roman’s face tightened.
“No.”
I regretted it immediately.
But he did not make me take it back.
He said:
“You’re right.”
Silence.
Then:
“This time, showing up means going where I’m supposed to go.”
That was annoying.
Because it was true.
I leaned against the glass.
“Will you write?”
“Yes.”
“Every week?”
“If you want.”
“Every Sunday.”
“Yes.”
“No scary prison stuff.”
“Agreed.”
“No lying.”
“Agreed.”
“And don’t write three pages about business.”
He almost smiled.
“Cruel.”
“Good.”
Then he handed me nothing.
No necklace.
No trust.
No dramatic keepsake.
He only said:
“I will miss you.”
I looked at him.
“I’ll miss you too.”
Two weeks later, Judge Hart reviewed guardianship again.
Roman’s petition stayed open but inactive.
Mrs. Bennett remained my guardian.
The judge asked me how I felt.
“Mad.”
“At who?”
“Everybody.”
Fair.
Then:
“Do you want Roman to keep being part of your life?”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Good.
Not guardian yet.
Still family.
Maybe that was enough for now.
On the morning Roman surrendered, he did not ask me to come to the federal building.
Good.
He called from his apartment.
“I’m leaving.”
I held the phone with both hands.
“Okay.”
“I’ll write Sunday.”
“Okay.”
“Rosie?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry the first time I kept my promise, I arrived at a dance.”
My throat tightened.
“And the second time I keep it, I have to leave.”
I did not know what to say.
Then I remembered Mom’s note.
“Just come back.”
Roman breathed.
“I’m on my way.”
Not yet.
But eventually.
May you like
For the first time, I understood those three words were not always about distance.
Sometimes they meant the person was still moving toward the promise, even when the road went the wrong direction first.
