Chương 3
This time Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.
She let it ring.
“I don’t know that either,” she said.
Daniel called three more times before Rachel pulled away from the curb.
On the fourth call, Sophie said, “You can answer if you want.”
Rachel glanced at her in the mirror.
Sophie was rubbing one of the rabbit’s ears between her fingers, the torn seam turned inward against her dress.
“I don’t want to right now.”
“Is he mad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you mad?”
Rachel turned onto the main road and waited until the traffic light changed before answering.
“Yes.”
Sophie nodded as if this confirmed something important.
Rachel took them to the apartment she still technically owned across town, the one she had been planning to put on the market in September.
She had kept it mostly empty after moving into Daniel’s house because every time the realtor mentioned staging, paint, or photographs, Rachel found some reason to postpone.
Now she was grateful for her own procrastination.
The apartment smelled faintly of dust and the lemon cleaner the building used in the hallways.
There were no groceries except two bottles of sparkling water, mustard, and a jar of olives Rachel had forgotten in the refrigerator.
Sophie stood in the middle of the living room holding the rabbit.
“Do I still have pajamas here?”
“One pair.”
“The purple ones?”
“I think the ones with the stars.”
Sophie considered this.
“Those are too small.”
“We’ll improvise.”
Rachel expected a smile.
It did not come.
She set her laptop bag on the floor and crouched in front of Sophie.
“Can I look at your cheek?”
Sophie hesitated, then nodded.
The redness had deepened along the left side of her face.
There was no swelling Rachel could see, but the sight of Margaret’s fingers beginning to declare themselves against her daughter’s skin made something hot move through her chest.
She reached for her phone.
Sophie caught her wrist.
“Don’t take a picture.”
Rachel froze.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want it.”
Rachel lowered the phone immediately.
“Okay.”
Sophie looked embarrassed now, which somehow felt worse than fear.
“I don’t want people seeing.”
“They won’t.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Rachel sat back on her heels.
“Unless we need to show a doctor.”
Sophie’s eyes dropped to the rabbit.
Rachel hated adding the condition, but promises made to frightened children had to survive the morning after.
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“Not a lot.”
“Any headache?”
“No.”
“Do your teeth feel normal?”
Sophie pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek and nodded.
Rachel called the pediatrician instead of Daniel.
The nurse asked careful questions and told her what symptoms would require immediate evaluation.
Rachel wrote them down on the back of an old electric bill because she could not find a notebook.
When she finished, Sophie was sitting cross-legged on the bare hardwood near the window.
She had found a small sewing kit in the junk drawer.
“Can you fix Bunny?”
Rachel stared at the loose stitches.
“Yes.”
“You always say that and then his ear comes loose again.”
“That is unfair criticism of my tailoring career.”
Sophie almost smiled.
Almost.
Rachel sat beside her.
She threaded a needle badly on the first attempt and better on the second.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time Daniel sent a message.
Please tell me where you are.
Rachel looked at it without opening the conversation.
Another arrived.
Mom says there was an accident with Lily and Sophie.
Rachel’s jaw tightened.
An accident.
She put the phone face down.
Sophie watched her.
“What did he say?”
“He wants to know where we are.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Yes.”
Sophie picked at a loose thread on her dress.
“Does he know she hit me?”
Rachel met her eyes.
“Not from what he just wrote.”
Sophie absorbed that quietly.
Rachel opened the message thread.
We’re safe at my apartment.
Sophie is with me.
Your mother hit her across the face.
Do not come here yet.
She stared at the final sentence, then sent it before she could soften it.
Daniel called immediately.
Rachel declined the call.
His next message appeared within seconds.
What?
Rachel set the phone down again.
Sophie leaned against her shoulder while Rachel repaired the rabbit.
The stitching was ugly.
Rachel had never learned how to make small, invisible repairs.
Her mother used to say she sewed like someone settling a personal dispute with fabric.
Rachel pulled the thread too tight and puckered the rabbit’s head.
Sophie noticed.
“That looks weird.”
“I know.”
“Don’t make him bald.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“You’re not very good.”
“That’s clear.”
This time Sophie smiled for half a second.
Rachel finished the knot and handed the rabbit back.
Sophie inspected the repair with brutal seriousness.
“It’ll do.”
“Thank you for your mercy.”
The phone rang again.
Daniel.
Rachel looked at Sophie.
“I need to talk to him.”
Sophie’s smile vanished.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to listen.”
“Can I go in your room?”
“Of course.”
Sophie stood, then stopped.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let him say I pushed Lily.”
Rachel felt the sentence like a bruise.
“I won’t.”
Sophie disappeared down the hall.
Rachel waited until the bedroom door clicked shut before answering Daniel’s next call.
“What happened?”
His voice was breathless.
Rachel stood near the window and looked down at the parking lot three floors below.
“Your mother slapped Sophie.”
There was silence.
Then, “She said Sophie shoved Lily.”
“She didn’t.”
“I’m not saying she did.”
“You just led with it.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
“Understand what part?”
“Rachel.”
“Daniel, I walked in and found my six-year-old holding her face while your mother stood over her.”
“I know.”
“No, you know now.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Mom said she barely touched her.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
There it was.
The small refuge people built around unacceptable things.
Barely.
Just once.
Not that hard.
She said, “Do you hear yourself?”
“I’m repeating what she told me.”
“Why?”
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“Because I wasn’t there.”
“Neither was I for most of it.”
