Chương 3
And unlike the slap, that threat had not been impulsive enough for me to dismiss.
I reached for my phone.
Dad stopped me with two fingers against my wrist.
“Before you answer anything,” he said, “we need to find out where your daughters are.”
I looked at the message from Emma again.
Then another appeared.
Mom?
A third followed almost immediately.
Something’s wrong with Dad.
I opened Emma’s message and typed with one thumb while my other arm stayed wrapped around the baby.
Where are you right now?
The typing bubble appeared, vanished, then returned.
Home.
All of us.
Dad is in the garage throwing things.
My pulse kicked hard enough to make the monitor beside me complain.
“Dad.”
He was already standing.
“What?”
“They’re home with him.”
The gentleness disappeared from his face.
“Call Emma.”
I did.
She answered before the first ring had finished.
“Mom?”
Her voice was too quiet.
“Sweetheart, listen to me carefully.”
“Is the baby okay?”
“He’s perfect.”
A small breath came through the speaker.
“Okay.”
“Where are your sisters?”
“Kitchen.”
“Is Dad in the house?”
“No.”
Something crashed faintly in the background.
Emma flinched so sharply I could hear it in her breathing.
“He’s still in the garage.”
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad held out his hand for my phone.
I shook my head.
Emma was my daughter, and if I was about to change her life, she was going to hear my voice while I did it.
“Emma, take Sophie, Lily, and Grace upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Mom.”
“Now, honey.”
Her breath trembled.
“Is Dad mad because the baby has blue eyes?”
Every adult in the room became still.
I shut my eyes.
“What did he tell you?”
“He came in yelling.”
My stomach turned.
“What did he say?”
“He said you lied to everybody.”
Dad looked toward the ceiling and exhaled through his nose.
Emma continued before I could answer.
“He said the baby isn’t his.”
Marisol quietly stepped away from the bed and pulled the door fully closed.
“He was angry,” I said.
“That doesn’t make what he said true.”
“Did you cheat on Dad?”
The question was blunt in the way only a twelve-year-old could make it.
“No.”
There was a silence.
Then Emma whispered, “Okay.”
That single word hurt worse than David’s slap.
Not because she doubted me.
Because she had needed to ask.
“Take your sisters upstairs and lock your bedroom door.”
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
It was the easiest lie I had ever told.
Dad leaned toward the phone.
“Emma, sweetheart, this is Grandpa.”
“Hi.”
“Can you do something for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Take the girls upstairs like your mom said, then stay on the phone.”
“What if Dad comes in?”
“Don’t argue with him.”
Dad’s voice stayed even.
“You don’t have to explain anything.”
“He’ll get mad.”
“I know.”
Emma’s next breath shook.
That told me more than I wanted to know.
I stared at Dad.
He heard it too.
His jaw tightened.
“Has he scared you before?” I asked.
Emma went silent.
“Emma?”
“He gets loud.”
That was not an answer.
“What does loud mean?”
“Mom.”
“Tell me.”
Another crash came from downstairs.
Emma whispered, “I’m going upstairs.”
I heard footsteps, then the murmur of another child asking what was happening.
“Bring everybody with you.”
“I am.”
The phone muffled as Emma spoke to her sisters.
“No, Lily, bring the tablet.”
A younger voice protested.
“I don’t care, just bring it.”
Despite everything, Marisol almost smiled.
“She sounds like the oldest,” she murmured.
“She is.”
Dad had pulled his encrypted phone out again.
This time he walked to the far corner of the room and spoke quietly.
I caught only pieces.
Local police.
Welfare check.
No military involvement.
Children in residence.
Possible domestic violence.
He was being careful.
Painfully careful.
The man who could probably get a Pentagon office to answer before sunrise was deliberately making sure my family crisis stayed a civilian matter.
That mattered.
I did not want David punished by my father’s rank.
I wanted him held responsible for what he had actually done.
A nurse knocked and entered with a plastic medication cup.
She froze when she noticed the tension.
“Bad time?”
Marisol took the cup from her.
“Very.”
The nurse looked at my face.
Her eyes sharpened.
“Oh.”
“I’m fine.”
Marisol gave me a look.
“You just gave birth and got hit in the face.”
“Fine is flexible.”
That earned a quiet snort from the other nurse.
For three seconds, the room became almost normal.
Then Emma spoke through the phone.
“We’re upstairs.”
“Lock the door.”
A click followed.
“Done.”
“Good.”
Sophie’s voice came faintly in the background.
“Is Mom coming home?”
I pressed my lips together.
“Put me on speaker.”
There was rustling.
Then four small voices filled the room in different degrees of fear.
“Mom?”
“Is the baby cute?”
“Did Dad say a bad word?”
“Can we see him?”
Grace was six and apparently unconcerned with the collapse of her parents’ marriage as long as the baby remained interesting.
“Yes, he’s cute.”
“Send a picture.”
“Does he have hair?”
“A little.”
“What color?”
“Dark.”
Lily groaned.
“That’s boring.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
My abdomen clenched again.
Marisol pointed at me.
“No laughing.”
“That seems medically unreasonable.”
“Right now, everything you enjoy is medically unreasonable.”
The girls giggled.
I let them.
They needed it.
So did I.
Then Sophie asked, “Why is Dad mad?”
The laughter disappeared.
“I’ll explain when I get home.”
“When are you coming home?”
I looked down at my son.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Tonight?”
“Probably not.”
A pause followed.
Their home had never felt dangerous before.
Not exactly.
David could be moody.
He slammed cabinet doors.
He shouted when bills surprised him.
He once punched the pantry door after losing a promotion he believed he deserved.
I had called that stress.
May you like
When he criticized the girls for crying, I had called it discipline.
When he refused to speak to me for two days after I told him I was pregnant with Grace, I had called it disappointment.
