Chương 6
This time she picked it up.
Her sister, Megan.
Rach, call me when you wake up. Your mother-in-law is apparently telling people there was some kind of emergency.
Rachel placed the phone down.
Nathan said, “How does Megan know?”
“Your cousin’s wife follows her on Instagram. Welcome to modern family life.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop saying sorry every thirty seconds.”
“I am sorry.”
“I know.”
He stood and walked to the sink.
Rachel watched him rinse a mug that was already clean.
“Nathan.”
He turned.
“Send me the security video.”
He hesitated.
“Why?”
“I want a copy.”
“I’m not deleting it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
He exported the file and sent it to her.
Rachel saved it.
Then she uploaded a copy to her cloud storage.
Nathan noticed.
“You think I’d delete it?”
“No.”
“Then why—”
“Because I don’t want the only evidence of what happened stored on your phone.”
He absorbed that.
“Fair.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“What?”
“This shouldn’t have to be fair.”
Nathan sat again.
Rachel’s cereal had gone soft.
She ate another bite anyway.
At nine thirty, Susan called.
Nathan looked at the screen.
“Do you want me to answer?”
“Your aunt. Your choice.”
He put the call on speaker.
Susan did not say hello.
“I should have said something last night.”
Nathan leaned closer.
“About what?”
A pause.
“Your mother called me yesterday afternoon.”
Rachel stopped chewing.
“What time?” Nathan asked.
“Maybe four? A little before.”
The security footage had been recorded shortly after four.
Susan continued.
“She said Rachel was having some kind of episode and she wanted another person there when she talked to her.”
Rachel’s fingers tightened around her spoon.
“What exactly did she say?” Nathan asked.
“She said she was afraid Rachel might leave the house and abandon Sophie.”
Rachel looked at Nathan.
His face drained.
Susan rushed on.
“I told her that didn’t sound like Rachel. She said I didn’t understand how bad things had gotten.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
Nathan checked his phone.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I called your office. It went to voicemail.”
He searched.
There it was.
A missed call buried between birthday messages.
Nathan closed his eyes.
Susan said, “I should have kept trying.”
Rachel finally spoke.
“Why did Eleanor think I was going to leave Sophie?”
Susan was silent.
“I don’t know.”
“Did she say?”
“She said you’d been talking about needing to get away.”
Rachel frowned.
“I never said that to her.”
Another pause.
“Well.”
“What?”
Susan sounded uncomfortable.
“She said Nathan told her.”
Rachel looked at him.
Nathan shook his head immediately.
“I didn’t.”
Susan said, “I’m just telling you what she said.”
Nathan stood.
“I never told Mom Rachel wanted to leave Sophie. Ever.”
“I believe you.”
“Did she ask you to come here?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“She said she wanted witnesses because you would blame her afterward.”
Rachel looked at the white photograph still lying on the counter.
Nathan’s voice became very quiet.
“Witnesses to what?”
Susan did not answer right away.
“I think you should ask her.”
After the call, Nathan walked through the living room twice without speaking.
Rachel remained at the table.
“Stop pacing.”
He stopped.
“Sorry.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Sorry.”
He laughed once despite himself.
“Apparently I have two settings.”
Rachel stared at him until his expression became serious again.
“What are you going to do?”
“Call her.”
“And say what?”
“Ask what she planned.”
“She’ll lie.”
“Probably.”
“Then why call?”
“Because I want her to know I know.”
Rachel shook her head.
“That’s for you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you want the confrontation because you’re angry.”
“Of course I’m angry.”
“So am I. That doesn’t make it useful.”
Nathan stared at her.
She continued.
“If you call her now, she’ll get information. She’ll find out exactly what Susan told us. She’ll find out what we know and what we don’t.”
Nathan slowly put his phone down.
Rachel noticed his surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Say it.”
“You sound like my father.”
She stared.
“That may be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Nathan almost smiled.
“He was very calm when he was furious.”
“I’m not calm.”
“I know.”
Rachel looked at Sophie sleeping in the carrier.
“I’m scared.”
Nathan’s smile disappeared.
“Of Mom?”
“Of what happens if people believe her.”
He pulled out a chair.
“Who cares what they believe?”
“I do.”
“Why?”
Rachel looked at him.
“Because I’m the mother she’s calling unstable.”
That ended the question.
At ten fifteen, Rachel called her obstetrician’s office.
She nearly hung up while the receptionist searched for an appointment.
Nathan stood at the other side of the kitchen pretending not to listen.
“Yes,” Rachel said when the receptionist returned. “Today is fine.”
She wrote the time on the back of a grocery receipt.
After the call, Nathan asked, “Do you want me to come?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I want you to stay with Sophie.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Rachel hated how much that reaction hurt.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re surprised I’m leaving her with you?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m surprised because lately you haven’t wanted to leave her with anybody.”
“You’re not anybody.”
Nathan looked away.
That was the first good thing either of them had said that morning, and neither knew what to do with it.
At the doctor’s office, Rachel filled out a questionnaire she had completed three months earlier and lied on.
This time she did not.
Trouble sleeping even when baby sleeps.
Nearly every day.
Feeling anxious or panicky.
Often.
Blaming yourself unnecessarily.
More than she wanted to admit.
Thoughts of harming herself.
Never.
Thoughts of harming Sophie.
Never.
She stared at those two answers until the words blurred.
When the nurse came in, Rachel handed over the form.
“I should have answered it like this before.”
The nurse looked at the page.
“Okay.”
No shock.
No alarm.
Just okay.
Rachel almost cried from the ordinariness of it.
May you like
The appointment lasted less than an hour.
There was no dramatic diagnosis delivered like a verdict. There were questions. Options. Follow-up. Discussion about sleep, anxiety, support, therapy, medication if needed, practical help, warning signs, and the difference between needing assistance and being incapable of caring for a baby.
