Chương 10
But if Susan had seen it earlier, there had to be another print.
Or another visit.
Rachel took out her phone.
She opened the image she had taken of the photograph.
“What was she doing with it?”
Susan looked uncomfortable.
“It was beside some papers.”
“What papers?”
“I didn’t read them.”
“Did you see anything?”
“A heading.”
Nathan said, “What heading?”
Susan closed her eyes as if trying to recall.
“Family care plan.”
Rachel felt Sophie move against her.
She looked down.
The baby remained asleep.
Nathan said, “What the hell is a family care plan?”
“I don’t know.”
Rachel did.
Not technically.
Not legally.
But she understood the language.
A harmless phrase.
A reasonable phrase.
A phrase Eleanor could use instead of what she really meant.
Susan left after an hour.
Nathan wanted to drive immediately to Eleanor’s condo.
Rachel stopped him.
“No.”
“She has documents about our daughter.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Family care plan?”
“We don’t know what it is.”
“You sound like me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s irritating.”
“Good.”
He paced.
Rachel watched him.
“Call her.”
He stopped.
“You said not to.”
“That was before.”
“What changed?”
“We know what question to ask.”
Nathan called.
Eleanor answered on the third ring.
This time Rachel remained silent.
Nathan said, “What’s the family care plan?”
Nothing.
Then Eleanor sighed.
“Susan talks too much.”
Rachel looked at Nathan.
He closed his eyes.
So it existed.
“What is it?”
“A contingency.”
“For what?”
“For a situation where Rachel needed medical treatment or rest.”
Nathan’s voice hardened.
“You wrote a plan for my wife to leave her child?”
“I wrote nothing of the sort.”
“Send it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re behaving irrationally.”
Nathan laughed.
The sound had no humor.
“Send it.”
“I will discuss it with you in person.”
“No.”
“You don’t dictate terms to me.”
“I’m not dictating. I’m asking for a document about my daughter.”
Eleanor became silent.
Then:
“It wasn’t formal.”
“I didn’t ask if it was formal.”
“It was notes.”
“Send them.”
Another silence.
“I destroyed them.”
Rachel’s eyes closed.
Nathan looked at her.
“When?”
“After your performance at dinner.”
“You mean after I saw the video.”
“I mean after you made it clear you were incapable of having an adult conversation.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
Rachel held out her hand.
He passed her the phone.
“Eleanor.”
The silence on the other end sharpened.
Rachel continued.
“Why did you want me out of the house without Sophie?”
“I wanted you to rest.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“You were refusing help.”
“So you planned to frighten me into accepting it?”
“No.”
“What did you plan?”
Eleanor inhaled.
“I planned to make you confront reality.”
“What reality?”
“That you were not functioning.”
Rachel waited.
There it was again.
The temptation to prove.
She chose something else.
“You’re right about one thing.”
Nathan stared at her.
Eleanor did not speak.
“I wasn’t functioning well.”
Rachel could almost feel Eleanor lean toward the phone.
“I was barely sleeping. I was anxious. I had a panic attack. I needed help.”
Nathan’s eyes filled.
Rachel continued before either could interrupt.
“And none of that gave you the right to threaten me with losing my daughter.”
Eleanor said, “Nobody threatened—”
“You did.”
“I was trying to wake you up.”
“No. You were trying to scare me.”
“You were impossible to reach.”
“I told you no.”
“You were not in a condition to know what you needed.”
Rachel looked at Nathan.
There.
The center of it.
Not concern.
Authority.
“You think saying no was proof I couldn’t decide.”
“When someone is drowning, you don’t ask whether they want a hand.”
“And if they aren’t drowning?”
“Rachel.”
“What if they’re just tired and scared and standing in water while you keep pushing their head down?”
Nathan lowered his eyes.
Eleanor’s voice cooled.
“I won’t be insulted.”
“Then we’re done.”
Rachel ended the call.
Her hand shook afterward.
Nathan took the phone and put it on the table.
“That was—”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I was going to say difficult.”
“Oh.”
“It looked difficult.”
“It was.”
Rachel sat.
She felt no triumph.
No release.
Only exhaustion.
Nathan crouched in front of her.
“She was never going to hear you.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you say it?”
Rachel looked at Sophie.
“Because I needed to hear me.”
A month passed.
Eleanor did not see Sophie.
She sent gifts.
Rachel returned them.
The first was a cashmere blanket.
The second was a silver rattle engraved with Sophie’s initials.
The third was a box of children’s books that had belonged to Nathan.
That one stayed unopened for three days.
Nathan found Rachel staring at it in the front hall.
“You want to keep them?”
“I don’t know.”
“They were mine.”
“I know.”
“My dad read those to me.”
Rachel looked at him.
“That’s why I don’t know.”
Nathan sat on the bottom stair.
They opened the box together.
There were eight books.
One had Nathan’s name written inside in his father’s handwriting.
Rachel ran her thumb over the faded ink.
“This isn’t fair.”
“No.”
“She knows exactly what to send.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want them?”
Nathan looked at the book.
“Yes.”
Rachel nodded.
“Then we keep them.”
“Are you sure?”
“They’re yours.”
“They came from her.”
“Not everything she touches belongs to her.”
Nathan looked at Rachel.
She regretted the sentence immediately because it sounded wiser than she felt.
“Don’t make that a thing.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“A little.”
They put the books in Sophie’s room.
The silver rattle went back.
Eleanor escalated quietly.
She stopped sending objects and began calling relatives.
Rachel learned this because people started behaving differently.
A cousin who normally sent ridiculous baby videos wrote, Hope you’re taking care of yourself.
An old family friend asked Nathan whether “things at home” had improved.
Susan became angry on Rachel’s behalf, which created its own complications because Susan began fighting Eleanor in public on Facebook before Rachel begged her to stop.
May you like
“I’m helping,” Susan said.
“You’re creating a comment section.”
