Chương 8
Upstairs, her engagement photographs were spread across the guest-room desk because she had been choosing one for the newspaper announcement. Daniel found himself staring at an image in which Vanessa knelt beside Sophie, both of them laughing as the photographer’s dog pulled against its leash.
That moment had also been real.
He sat on the guest bed.
At eleven-thirty, the doorbell rang.
Daniel checked the security screen.
Vanessa stood on the porch wearing a long beige coat over her wedding dress.
He opened the door but did not invite her in.
Her makeup had faded around her mouth. She held a white hotel tote bag and her veil, folded over one arm.
“I need clothes,” she said.
“I told you I would have them sent.”
“My medication is upstairs.”
“What medication?”
She looked at him. “Does that matter now?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa glanced toward the security camera above the porch. “May I come inside?”
“Is your father with you?”
“No.”
“Your mother?”
“No.”
He stepped aside.
Vanessa entered and stopped in the foyer. The house was dark except for the lamp near the stairs.
“Is Sophie asleep?”
“Yes.”
“I want to see her.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“She asked me not to let you near her.”
Pain crossed Vanessa’s face. She removed her coat. The wedding dress beneath it was wrinkled at the waist, and the hem had darkened from dragging across the mansion driveway.
“I would never hurt her.”
“You already did.”
“I mean physically.”
“That distinction is not helping you.”
She looked toward the stairs. “I came to apologize.”
“She’s asleep.”
“I can wait until morning.”
“You can’t stay here.”
Vanessa pressed her lips together. “The medication is in the bathroom.”
Daniel followed her upstairs.
She moved carefully in the gown, lifting the front to avoid stepping on it. In their bedroom, she went to the bathroom cabinet and took out a small amber bottle.
Daniel recognized the pharmacy label but not the prescription.
“What is it?”
Vanessa placed it in her bag.
“Something my doctor gave me.”
“For what?”
“Sleep.”
“You said you stopped taking sleep medication.”
“I started again.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
He leaned against the doorframe.
Vanessa removed a sweater and jeans from the closet. Her hands shook as she folded them.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were busy.”
“That has never stopped you from telling me things.”
She gave him a tired look. “You would have asked why.”
“I’m asking now.”
Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed, the wedding gown spreading around her.
For a long moment, she stared at the silver bracelet on her wrist.
“I was pregnant in February,” she said.
Daniel did not understand the sentence at first.
Then he did.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Not for long,” Vanessa said. “Six weeks, maybe seven. I had not been to the first appointment.”
He took a step into the room.
“You were pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was going to.”
“What happened?”
“What usually happens that early.”
“Did you go to a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“My mother came.”
Daniel gripped the back of a chair.
“You told your mother.”
“I was bleeding.”
“And you did not call me.”
“You were in Baltimore.”
“I would have come home.”
“I knew you would.”
“Then why?”
Vanessa looked toward the window. “Because the morning it started, Sophie had a grief assembly at school.”
He stared at her.
“She was reading the letter she wrote to Emma,” Vanessa said. “You had been planning it with her for weeks. You called me from the train to remind me to record it.”
Daniel remembered the day. He had watched the video that night in a hotel room. Sophie stood at a school podium and read, Mommy, I have two loose teeth and Daddy burns pancakes less now.
Vanessa had filmed the entire thing.
“I did not want to become another sadness you had to fit around Emma,” she said.
“That is not fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t care?”
“I thought you would care. Then you would take care of me for three days, maybe four, and afterward we would return to the same house where your dead wife had a birthday, a death day, a wedding anniversary, a garden bench, a Christmas ornament, a favorite song no one was allowed to skip.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“Lower your voice.”
Vanessa laughed softly. “Of course.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use this to excuse what happened today.”
“I’m not.”
“You brought it up now.”
“You asked about the medication.”
“You could have answered without turning Emma into the reason.”
Vanessa stood. “She is not the reason. You are.”
The words stayed between them.
Daniel walked to the bedroom door and closed it so Sophie would not hear.
When he turned back, Vanessa was removing her pearl earrings. She placed them on the dresser one at a time.
“You let grief organize this house,” she said. “Emma chose the school, so Sophie stayed there. Emma liked the blue bedroom, so it stayed blue. Emma’s sister comes every other Sunday, whether we have plans or not. Your mother tells stories about Emma at dinner and then apologizes to me with her eyes. You say you love me, but every part of your life has a reserved seat.”
“You knew I was a widower.”
“I did not know I would be expected to marry all three of you.”
Daniel’s face went still.
Vanessa looked immediately sorry, but she continued.
“That was ugly,” she said. “I know. But I have spent two years trying not to say ugly things because only one kind of grief is allowed in this house.”
He looked at the medication in her bag.
The miscarriage changed something. It did not change enough.
“You should have told me,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I would have been there.”
“Maybe.”
“No. Not maybe.”
May you like
“You missed Sophie asking whether boarding schools have locks.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to use that against me.”
