Chương 12
Desmond noticed.
"We're fine."
Julian hesitated.
Celia said, "Back patio."
He followed her through the sliding door.
The evening had cooled.
Cicadas buzzed in the trees behind the fence.
Celia folded her arms.
"Start talking."
Julian leaned against the railing.
"I told you what happened."
"You told me what Corinne did."
He looked at her.
"What else do you want?"
"I want to know what you did."
He laughed bitterly.
"Apparently not enough."
"That's vague."
"Celia."
"No."
Her voice sharpened.
"You don't get to walk in here looking like somebody handed you a verdict and expect me to just comfort you."
"I'm not asking for comfort."
"Good."
He stared at her.
She had Corinne's eyes.
He had never noticed how much until that moment.
Celia continued.
"How long have you known Corinne was unraveling?"
"I didn't."
"Bull."
Julian straightened.
"I knew she was overwhelmed."
"That's not the same thing?"
"Not even close."
"It is when somebody has been telling you for a year that they can't manage."
He looked toward the kitchen window.
Wren was still eating.
Desmond was saying something that made her roll her eyes.
"I thought she needed help with logistics."
Celia stared.
"Of course you did."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you solve everything with logistics."
Julian's jaw tightened.
"You have a problem, you hire somebody."
"We have a housekeeper."
"You hired her."
"Corinne wanted help."
"She wanted you home."
Julian looked away.
Celia stepped closer.
"Do you know she called me in February and said she hated you?"
He turned back.
"What?"
"She didn't mean it literally."
"That's a strange thing to keep from me."
"It wasn't mine to tell."
"Apparently everyone in this family has a very flexible definition of what's mine to know."
Celia flinched.
"Fair."
Julian rubbed his face.
"What did she say?"
"That you could walk through the door and become everyone's favorite person in ten minutes."
He closed his eyes.
Celia's voice softened slightly.
"She was jealous of you."
"She told me tonight."
"Did she tell you she was scared of herself?"
His eyes opened.
"What?"
Celia looked toward the yard.
"In April, she said she was yelling too much."
Julian's stomach tightened.
"What exactly did she say?"
"That she could hear herself becoming someone she didn't like."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I told her to tell you."
"Did she?"
"I don't know."
"She didn't."
Celia looked ashamed.
Julian's anger rose.
"You knew."
"I knew she was losing her temper."
"You knew she was afraid of herself."
"That is not the same as knowing she would hit Wren."
"No."
His voice hardened.
"But it was more than I knew."
Celia's face changed.
He saw the words land.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then she said, "You're right."
Julian looked away.
He had expected resistance.
The concession left him nowhere to put his anger.
Celia folded her hands together.
"I should have pushed harder."
He stared at the darkening yard.
"So should I."
"You weren't listening."
"No."
"She wasn't honest."
"No."
"Neither one cancels the other."
Julian nodded.
Celia sat in one of the patio chairs.
He remained standing.
"She called me after you left."
"What did she say?"
"That she was alone."
Julian's mouth tightened.
"She is."
Celia looked up.
"That sounded cruel."
"It probably was."
"Was it true?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
Celia nodded slowly.
"She asked if she could come here."
Julian turned.
"You said no?"
"I said the children were coming."
"And?"
"She cried."
He swallowed.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing."
That surprised him.
Celia stared at her hands.
"I listened."
Julian waited.
"She said she didn't mean to hit Wren."
His jaw tightened.
"She said she was tired."
"That doesn't matter."
"No."
"She said Wren had been pushing her all day."
"She's six."
"I know."
"Did you tell her that?"
"I told her I wasn't interested in the argument."
Julian looked at her.
Celia's mouth trembled.
"Then she asked if I thought she was a bad mother."
"What did you say?"
"I said I thought she had done something very bad."
Julian said nothing.
Celia looked toward the kitchen window.
"I couldn't say the other thing."
"What other thing?"
"That I don't know what kind of mother she is right now."
Julian sat across from her.
The admission seemed to age Celia in seconds.
"She's your daughter."
"I know."
"That doesn't make you responsible for what she did."
Celia laughed once.
"You sound like somebody at the hospital already gave you a pamphlet."
"No."
"Then don't."
Julian looked down.
"Sorry."
Celia rubbed her palms over her knees.
"I raised her."
"That still doesn't make this yours."
"You don't get to decide what's mine."
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
"Okay."
A screen door opened somewhere down the block.
A dog barked twice.
Celia spoke more quietly.
"Corinne's father used to control food."
Julian looked at her.
"What?"
She did not meet his eyes.
"He wasn't violent."
The phrase came too quickly.
Julian waited.
Celia heard herself and sighed.
"That's what I used to say."
"What did he do?"
"He had rules."
Julian felt his chest tighten.
"What rules?"
"Children finished what was served."
"That's common."
"It wasn't just that."
Celia picked at a loose thread on her sweatshirt.
"He weighed Corinne when she was thirteen."
Julian stared.
"Why?"
"He thought she was getting heavy."
"She was thirteen."
"I know."
"Did you stop him?"
Celia looked at him.
"No."
There was no defense in her answer.
"He put a scale in the downstairs bathroom and wrote numbers on a calendar."
Julian's stomach turned.
"Corinne never told me."
"She probably never intended to."
"Why are you telling me now?"
"Because when she was sixteen, she started hiding food."
Julian went still.
Celia continued.
"Crackers."
The word barely carried over the cicadas.
Julian thought of Wren.
Of crumbs under a bed.
Of Corinne standing behind her daughter with her hand raised.
Celia pressed her fingers against her mouth.
May you like
"I didn't remember until she mentioned the crackers tonight."
Julian stared at her.
