Chương 4
Then I pictured Abigail asking whether the baby was all right.
I answered.
“What happened?”
Samantha exhaled so sharply it sounded as if she had been holding her breath since noon.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“With the girls?”
“Yes.”
“Can you talk?”
“For a few minutes.”
There was a pause.
I could hear traffic on her end and the faint rhythmic clicking of a turn signal.
“You were right about Naomi.”
I leaned against the counter.
“I never said anything about Naomi to you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Another turn signal clicked.
Then stopped.
“She lied to Victor.”
“About what?”
“The pregnancy.”
My fingers went cold despite the warm kitchen.
“Is the baby okay?”
“The baby is fine.”
Samantha’s voice broke slightly on the last word.
I looked toward the hallway.
“Then what did she lie about?”
“She says she thought Victor was the father.”
“That’s not the same thing as lying.”
“She knew there was someone else.”
I closed my eyes.
It was impossible not to feel something ugly and immediate.
Not satisfaction exactly.
Something meaner.
A flash of relief that Victor had finally been made to look foolish by the same certainty that had humiliated me.
The feeling lasted perhaps two seconds.
Then I felt ashamed of it.
“Samantha, why are you calling me?”
“Because he’s falling apart.”
“That is not my responsibility anymore.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
Her answer came quickly enough to surprise me.
“I know because I watched all of us make you responsible for him for twelve years.”
I said nothing.
Samantha gave a short, humorless laugh.
“I guess timing isn’t really our family’s gift.”
“Apparently not.”
“I’m not asking you to fix him.”
“You asked me not to leave.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
She was quiet long enough that I wondered whether the call had dropped.
Then she said, “Because he told Dad he was going to challenge the relocation.”
I straightened.
“He signed it.”
“I know.”
“He had independent counsel.”
“I know.”
“The court approved it.”
“Penelope.”
Her voice had changed.
Not defensive now.
Afraid.
“He isn’t thinking rationally.”
“That doesn’t make his signature disappear.”
“No.”
“But it can make my weekend miserable.”
“Yes.”
I pressed my palm flat against the counter.
“Has he contacted his attorney?”
“I don’t know.”
“You called me before you knew whether he had actually done anything?”
“I called because Mom told him the girls were all he had left.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“They were not consolation prizes before Naomi’s ultrasound, and they are not consolation prizes now.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Okay.”
She sounded tired.
I hated that her exhaustion made her easier to listen to.
“He kept saying he’d made a mistake.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“Not Naomi.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“He said he made a mistake with you.”
The room seemed to narrow around the words.
I reached for the back of a chair and sat down.
Samantha continued before I could answer.
“He left the clinic alone.”
“Where did Naomi go?”
“Her sister picked her up.”
“And your parents?”
“With me.”
“Then how do you know what Victor said?”
“He came to Dad’s house an hour later.”
I looked toward the dark hallway again.
“What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Nothing tonight.”
“That sounds temporary.”
“It is.”
“Samantha.”
“I’m trying not to lie to you anymore.”
The sentence came out unevenly.
“I don’t know what happens tomorrow.”
“Neither do I.”
“You’re still leaving Sunday?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
Then she said, “Okay.”
No argument.
No accusation.
Just okay.
That unsettled me more than begging would have.
I ended the call and checked the lock twice before going to bed.
Sleep came in shallow pieces.
At two in the morning, I woke convinced someone had knocked.
Nobody was there.
At four, Charlotte wandered into my room because she had dreamed that our plane had taken off without Abigail.
At six-thirty, I gave up and made coffee.
By seven, three cardboard boxes sat open in the living room because the girls had decided the stuffed animals required their own luggage strategy.
Charlotte insisted the largest bear needed a seat belt on the plane.
Abigail informed her that airlines did not allocate seats based on emotional importance.
I drank coffee and taped a box shut.
For almost an hour, nobody mentioned Victor.
Then the intercom buzzed.
Every muscle in my shoulders tightened.
Abigail looked up.
“Is that Dad?”
“I don’t know.”
I crossed the room and pressed the speaker button.
“Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Victor.
Charlotte ran toward the door.
“Dad!”
I caught her before she could unlock it.
“Wait.”
Her face fell.
“I need to talk to him first.”
“But he’s Dad.”
“I know.”
That was the problem.
I pressed the button again.
“Why are you here?”
“To see the girls.”
“You have Saturday.”
“It is Saturday.”
I looked at the clock.
7:58 a.m.
Our agreement allowed pickup at ten.
“You’re two hours early.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“That doesn’t change the schedule.”
“Penelope.”
His voice came through the speaker flattened by static.
“Please.”
Abigail stood behind me with her arms folded.
There was an expression on her face I had never seen before.
Suspicion.
Not of me.
Of him.
I hated that more than I expected.
I pressed the release button.
“You can come up.”
Victor looked worse than Samantha had sounded.
He wore the same navy trousers from the day before, but his shirt had changed.
His hair was damp, as if he had showered without drying it properly.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
Charlotte threw herself at him.
He crouched and held her so tightly she squeaked.
“Dad.”
“Sorry.”
He loosened his arms but did not let go.
Abigail stayed near the kitchen.
“Hey, Abs.”
“Hi.”
“You okay?”
She shrugged.
Victor looked at me.
That tiny rejection hit him visibly.
He stood.
“Can we talk?”
“Not privately.”
“Penelope.”
May you like
“The girls are leaving with you in two hours.”
“I’m not taking them anywhere.”
