Chương 3
She had once screamed at Ryan because he bought the wrong toothpaste.
Later she admitted Noah always bought mint gel, not paste.
Ryan had gone back to the pharmacy at ten thirty that night.
He did not tell her.
At home, he carried Emily inside without waking her fully. She was getting too heavy for it. He had noticed that a month earlier and resented her body for growing as though it had broken some agreement.
He put her in bed, removed her shoes, and left the hall light on.
Then he took the rocking horse to the kitchen.
Under the bright overhead fixture, the damage looked worse.
The wooden leg had split near an old repair. One bracket had pulled out completely. Another hung crooked by a single screw. The turquoise rocker had a fresh gouge along one edge.
Ryan put the missing bracket on the counter.
He stared at the carving.
FOR EMILY — LOVE, DAD.
DEREK.
YOU PROMISED TO PROTECT HER.
He took a picture.
Then he hated himself for taking the picture.
It felt like evidence.
He did not want his dead cousin’s handwriting to become evidence.
His phone buzzed.
Linda.
He let it ring.
Thirty seconds later, it rang again.
Then Grace.
He answered that one.
“Is she okay?” Grace asked.
“She’s asleep.”
“I mean Emily.”
“So do I.”
Grace exhaled.
Ryan sat at the kitchen table.
On the counter, one of Emily’s school drawings was held to the refrigerator by a magnet shaped like a taco. Ryan stared at it while Grace said nothing.
Finally he asked, “You knew.”
Grace waited too long.
“Some of it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I knew Noah asked Derek for something before he died.”
“You heard him?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“Because Derek told me.”
Ryan leaned back.
“When?”
“Last February.”
Noah had died in March.
Ryan rubbed his thumb over the edge of the table.
“Why would Derek tell you?”
“He was angry.”
“Derek is usually angry.”
“This was different.”
Grace’s voice remained level, but Ryan could hear Christmas guests behind her now, lowered voices and the scrape of dishes. Apparently the party had not ended. Of course it had not ended. Somebody had probably decided it would be more awkward to leave.
Grace said, “Linda asked me to take Noah some documents at the hospital. Derek was there. When he came out, he looked awful. He told me Noah had asked him to promise something ridiculous.”
“What?”
“He didn’t say.”
Ryan looked toward Emily’s hallway.
“You never thought that was relevant?”
“To what?”
“To the seven-year-old living in my house.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Grace went quiet.
Ryan closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize just because you noticed you were being an ass.”
Despite himself, Ryan almost smiled.
That was Grace.
She could remove your excuses without raising her voice.
“What did Derek say exactly?”
“He said, ‘He waits until now to make me promise to be a good brother.’”
Ryan looked at the horse.
“Good brother.”
“Yes.”
“Not uncle?”
“Brother.”
“What else?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Grace.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
He believed that too.
He was getting tired of believing people and still not liking what they told him.
Grace lowered her voice.
“Ryan, when Derek saw those words tonight, he wasn’t surprised.”
“I noticed.”
“I think he knew they were there.”
Ryan stared at the metal bracket on the table.
“So why break it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Linda?”
“Not from anything she’s said.”
Ryan heard a cabinet close in the background.
Then Grace said, “Derek left.”
“Good.”
“He shouldn’t drive.”
Ryan checked the clock.
“How much did he drink?”
“Two bourbons that I saw. Maybe three.”
Ryan swore.
“Where is Linda?”
“Trying to call him.”
“Take his keys if he’s still there.”
“He’s gone.”
Ryan stood.
“Grace.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
Then she said, “I wrote down his plate for Linda a hundred times. I can call him. If he sounds impaired, I’ll deal with it.”
Ryan nearly told her that was not her job.
But apparently the entire Carter-Walsh family had spent years giving Grace work that was not her job.
“Text me when you know he’s somewhere safe.”
“I will.”
Before she hung up, Grace said, “Ryan.”
“What?”
“Don’t repair the horse tonight.”
He looked at it.
“Why?”
“Because you’re angry.”
“So?”
“So you’ll make everything square.”
Ryan stared at the phone.
Grace disconnected.
Noah had told everybody that joke.
Ryan sat down again.
For the first time since Derek dropped the horse, he laughed.
It lasted less than a second.
Then he put his face in his hands.
Christmas morning began at 5:11 because seven-year-olds did not respect emotional crises when presents were involved.
Emily climbed onto Ryan’s bed wearing flannel pajamas covered in polar bears and said, “Are you awake?”
“No.”
“You answered.”
“Sleep talking.”
“Can we go downstairs?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s five eleven.”
“That’s morning.”
“It’s a technicality.”
She sat on his legs.
Ryan opened one eye.
Emily looked normal.
That frightened him more than tears would have.
“Five thirty,” he said.
“Five fifteen.”
“Five twenty-five.”
“Five twenty.”
He sighed.
“You negotiate like your father.”
“Five twenty?”
“Go brush your teeth.”
She ran out.
Ryan lay in the dark another few seconds.
His phone had two messages.
Grace: Derek got home. He sounded sober enough to speak clearly. I told him I was calling a ride anyway. He called me controlling.
Linda: Please call me before Emily wakes up.
Too late.
Ryan got dressed.
By six thirty, the floor around the tree was covered in paper, Emily had received a science kit, three books, a ridiculous purple winter hat from Grace, and a remote-control dog from Linda that barked every time it hit furniture.
Ryan hated the dog immediately.
Emily loved it.
He drank coffee and watched her chase it around the sofa.
For twenty minutes, nobody mentioned Derek.
May you like
Ryan let those twenty minutes exist.
At 6:52, the remote-control dog drove into the wall and began barking at the baseboard.
