Chương 5
Abigail’s head came up.
I lowered my voice.
“That is what today is for.”
“I know.”
“You said you wanted time with them.”
“I do.”
“Then take it.”
His mouth tightened.
“I want all of us to talk.”
“No.”
“Can you stop saying no long enough to hear me?”
Charlotte flinched at his tone.
Victor saw it.
His face changed immediately.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
She looked between us.
“Are you fighting?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Abigail said.
“Abigail.”
“What?”
She looked at me.
“You always say not to lie.”
Victor closed his eyes briefly.
The four of us stood in the living room among half-packed boxes while an animated movie menu played silently on the television.
It was absurdly domestic.
Victor finally sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Naomi’s baby might not be mine.”
Charlotte frowned.
“The boy?”
“Yes.”
“Whose is he?”
“We don’t know.”
“Oh.”
She accepted this with the strange flexibility children sometimes have toward adult disasters.
Then she picked up a stuffed rabbit and began fastening a toy backpack around it.
Abigail did not move.
“Is that why you came?”
Victor looked at her.
“I came because I wanted to see you.”
“You were already supposed to see us.”
“Yes.”
“So why did you come early?”
He glanced at me.
There was nowhere safe for him to put his eyes.
“I made some bad decisions.”
Abigail’s voice was flat.
“About us?”
“About a lot of things.”
Charlotte looked up.
“Did you get fired?”
“No.”
“Then it could be worse.”
Nobody answered.
Charlotte returned to the rabbit.
Victor rubbed his hands together.
“I don’t want you to go to Ireland tomorrow.”
There it was.
Abigail looked at me.
Then at him.
“But you signed the paper.”
Victor blinked.
“How do you know that?”
“Mom told us.”
“I told them the move was agreed upon by both parents.”
He looked at me as if I had betrayed something private.
“You made it sound like I wanted them to leave.”
“You signed.”
“I thought—”
He stopped.
Abigail waited.
“What?”
Victor looked at his daughter.
“I thought things would be different.”
“With the boy.”
Her precision made him wince.
“Yes.”
Charlotte climbed onto the sofa beside him.
“So now you want us because he might not be yours?”
“Charlotte.”
I said her name softly.
Victor’s face emptied.
Children could be cruel without intending cruelty because they still believed questions deserved answers.
“No,” he said.
She leaned against his arm.
“It sounds like that.”
He stared at the floor.
“I know.”
Abigail’s eyes filled suddenly.
She turned away before the tears fell.
Victor stood.
“Abs.”
“Don’t.”
She backed toward the hallway.
“You said you’d see us when your schedule allowed.”
His shoulders dropped.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you did.”
“I was angry.”
“At us?”
“No.”
“Then why did you punish us?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
Abigail wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
She went into the bedroom and closed the door.
Victor started after her.
I stepped into his path.
“Give her a minute.”
“I need to fix that.”
“You can’t fix it in a minute.”
His eyes flashed.
“I’m her father.”
“Then act like one and let her be angry.”
He stared at me.
For once, he did not argue.
Charlotte climbed off the sofa.
“I’ll go.”
Before either of us could stop her, she marched down the hall and opened the bedroom door without knocking.
“Abby, Dad made you cry.”
“I know.”
“Do you want my horse?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
The door closed again.
Victor sat back down.
His hands were shaking now.
I had never seen that before.
“Did Naomi admit anything?”
He stared at his fingers.
“She admitted she slept with someone else.”
“Before you.”
“Apparently.”
“Did she know she was pregnant when you got together?”
“She says no.”
“And do you believe her?”
He laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“I don’t know what I believe.”
I went to the kitchen and poured him a glass of water.
Habit.
Even after everything, my hand reached automatically for care.
I almost put the glass back.
Then I carried it to him.
He took it without drinking.
“Who was he?”
“She won’t tell me.”
“That seems important.”
“She says it doesn’t matter unless the baby isn’t mine.”
“That is a strange definition of mattering.”
He looked up.
“You’re enjoying this.”
The accusation landed harder than I expected because of the two seconds from the night before.
“No.”
“You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not.”
“If I were you, I would.”
“That may be part of the problem.”
His eyes hardened.
For half a second, the old Victor returned.
Then he looked away.
“I deserved that.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“That’s somehow worse.”
The bedroom door opened.
Abigail came out carrying her backpack.
“I’ll go with Dad.”
Victor stood immediately.
“You will?”
“For the day.”
“Yes.”
“But I want to be back by seven.”
“Of course.”
“And I don’t want to see Grandma or Grandpa.”
His face tightened.
“Okay.”
“Or Aunt Samantha.”
“Okay.”
“Or Naomi.”
“No.”
Abigail stared at him.
“That one sounded easy.”
Victor swallowed.
“It is.”
She put on her shoes.
Charlotte appeared behind her carrying three stuffed animals.
“Can my horse come?”
Victor crouched.
“All of them can come.”
Charlotte brightened.
“Mom says airlines have rules, but cars don’t.”
“That’s mostly true.”
I handed Victor the girls’ passports by mistake when I reached for the emergency contact envelope.
He looked down at them.
For one terrible second, neither of us moved.
Then I took the passports back.
His thumb remained suspended in the air where Abigail’s had been.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes.”
He looked at our daughters.
Then at the boxes.
Then at me.
“I really did sign away the right to stop this, didn’t I?”
“You signed permission for your daughters to live with their mother in Ireland.”
May you like
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It is the only question that matters legally.”
