Chương 13
She lowered her voice.
“She said if I contacted you, you would come in like a hurricane.”
I almost laughed.
“That sounds convenient.”
“She said you would feel guilty.”
“I do.”
“She said you would try to fix everything.”
“I am trying to fix everything.”
“That was her point.”
I stared at her.
Grace continued.
“She said you would throw money at the problem, fight me for access, maybe custody, maybe control of treatment.”
“I would never interfere with treatment.”
“You’re saying that now.”
“Grace.”
“She told me you were engaged.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were with Amelia.”
“Yes.”
“She said you were building a new life.”
My jaw tightened.
“She always says that.”
“I know.”
Grace rubbed her thumb against the side of her index finger.
“She also offered to pay for Noah’s treatment.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Privately.”
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“She wanted Grace to sign something.”
I turned to him.
“What kind of something?”
“Confidentiality.”
Grace closed her eyes briefly.
“A private agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“She would cover anything insurance didn’t.”
“In exchange for what?”
“No public claim that the children were yours.”
For a few seconds, I heard nothing.
Not the radiator.
Not the children.
Not traffic through the window.
Nothing.
“She tried to buy your silence.”
Grace’s expression tightened.
“I didn’t take it.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
She stepped closer.
“I need you to understand that I didn’t take a dollar.”
“I said I know.”
“You don’t.”
Her voice shook now.
“Because part of you is going to wonder.”
I opened my mouth.
She kept going.
“You’re going to wonder whether I kept them from you for money.”
“I’m not.”
“You will.”
“I’m not.”
“You will when your mother starts talking.”
That silenced me.
Grace looked toward the refrigerator.
“I kept the agreement too.”
“Where?”
“With the rest of the documents.”
“I need copies.”
“No.”
“Grace.”
“No.”
“If my mother did this—”
“She did.”
“I need proof.”
“For what?”
“To confront her.”
“That is exactly what she wants you to do.”
I frowned.
Grace looked at me as if I was missing something obvious.
“She came here knowing I would refuse.”
“Why?”
“Because then she could say she tried to help.”
I looked at Marcus.
He nodded.
“She likes records.”
Grace continued.
“She had an attorney with her.”
“Who?”
“I don’t remember his name.”
Marcus did.
“Daniel Mercer.”
I knew the name.
Mercer had represented Callahan Industrial for almost twenty years.
He had handled labor disputes, executive separations, acquisition risk, and once an ugly lawsuit after a plant accident in Indiana.
I had known him since college.
He sent Christmas gifts.
I felt something inside me turn cold.
“He came here?”
Marcus nodded.
“In that suit he wears that probably costs more than my car.”
Grace gave him a look.
“What?”
“It probably does.”
I took out my phone.
“Don’t call him.”
Grace’s voice was immediate.
I looked at her.
“Why not?”
“Because Noah is asleep.”
“What does that have to do with Mercer?”
“Nothing.”
She stepped closer.
“But you are standing in my kitchen turning into the man I divorced.”
The words landed hard.
I lowered the phone.
“What man is that?”
“The one who gets scared and starts making calls.”
I looked at her.
“The one who thinks action is the same as control.”
Marcus quietly gathered the girls’ cracker wrappers.
Grace continued.
“You want to call your mother.”
“Mercer.”
“Same thing.”
“You want documents.”
“Yes.”
“You want timelines.”
“Yes.”
“You want to catch someone lying.”
“Yes.”
“And somewhere in all of that, Noah disappears.”
I looked toward the bedroom.
The door was partly open.
A night-light shaped like a moon glowed against the wall.
My anger did not vanish.
It simply lost priority.
I put the phone away.
Grace’s shoulders lowered a fraction.
“What happens at four?”
“Medicine.”
“Can I help?”
She hesitated.
Marcus watched her.
The girls whispered under the table.
Finally Grace said, “You can wake him.”
I nodded.
“What do I do?”
“You say his name first.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t touch him right away.”
“Why?”
“He startles.”
I nodded again.
“And if he gets upset?”
“He probably will.”
“What do I do then?”
Grace looked at me.
For the first time all afternoon, she seemed unsure of the answer.
“Stay.”
One word.
That was all.
At three fifty-five, I sat on the floor beside Noah’s bed.
His room was barely large enough for two small beds and a dresser.
A third mattress was rolled beneath one frame.
Dinosaurs covered the sheets.
There were glow-in-the-dark stars stuck unevenly across the ceiling.
I looked at his sleeping face.
His eyelashes were darker than mine.
His mouth was Grace’s.
One hand rested beside Rex.
I checked the clock.
Three fifty-eight.
I waited.
At four exactly, I leaned forward.
“Noah.”
Nothing.
I tried again.
“Noah.”
His forehead tightened.
His eyes opened.
For one terrible second, he looked frightened.
Then he saw me.
He frowned.
“Bad dinosaur.”
I looked at the sticker still on my sleeve.
“Still here.”
He closed his eyes again.
Grace stood in the doorway holding the medicine syringe.
I said his name a third time.
This time he reached for my hand.
I gave it to him.
Grace came closer.
Noah whispered, “Do I have to?”
“Yes, buddy.”
“It tastes like feet.”
Marcus called from the kitchen.
“It does not taste like feet.”
Noah shouted back without opening his eyes.
“You don’t know.”
“I tasted it.”
Grace looked toward the kitchen.
“You absolutely did not.”
Marcus said, “Maybe I did.”
Noah smiled.
A tiny, reluctant smile.
Grace handed me the syringe.
I stared at it.
“You want me to do it?”
“He’ll let you.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
Noah opened one eye.
“You squeeze slow.”
I swallowed.
“Okay.”
Grace sat on the edge of the bed.
I placed the syringe against the inside of his cheek the way she showed me.
Slowly.
Noah grimaced.
“Feet.”
May you like
“I believe you.”
When it was done, he drank water and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
