Chương 12
The answer was practical and infuriating.
I looked toward the townhouse.
“Can I go get my children?”
“Yes.”
The officer stepped back.
Mark’s SUV door opened.
My entire body tightened.
He got out slowly.
He did not approach.
He just stood beside the vehicle.
Even from that distance, I could see his face.
He looked wrecked.
Not dangerous.
Not triumphant.
Wrecked.
That was harder.
For one stupid second, I remembered him at twenty-eight, standing barefoot in our first apartment with a smoke detector chirping because he had burned pancakes.
He had worn my oven mitt on his head to make me laugh.
The memory arrived without permission.
I hated it.
Mark lifted one hand.
I did not wave back.
Arthur touched my elbow.
“Inside.”
I nodded.
Emma was waiting at the top of the stairs.
When she saw me, she ran down so fast I nearly told her to slow down.
Then she hit my body with both arms and held on.
“I’m sorry.”
The words came into my shoulder.
“For what?”
“I told Dad to go away.”
“That was okay.”
“He looked sad.”
I closed my eyes.
“You are not responsible for making him feel better.”
She pulled back.
“But I made him sad.”
“No.”
I crouched so we were eye level.
“He came here angry.”
“He said he just wanted to see us.”
“I believe he probably did.”
Emma frowned.
That answer surprised her.
“Then why couldn’t he?”
“Because wanting something doesn’t make it safe.”
Her mouth tightened.
She looked older again.
I hated that too.
Lily appeared behind her carrying three stuffed animals that did not belong to her.
“Those are from the guest room,” I said.
“I’m protecting them.”
“From what?”
“Dad.”
Priya looked away quickly.
I stood.
“Okay.”
I was not going to correct that.
Not yet.
We packed quickly.
The girls had almost nothing there anyway.
Priya kept glancing through the front window.
“His car is gone.”
Arthur checked.
“Good.”
“Where are we going?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
“Your grandfather’s lake house.”
I stared at him.
“That place is two hours away.”
“One hour and forty-five minutes.”
“It hasn’t been used in years.”
“It has heat.”
“That is a low standard.”
“It also has a functioning alarm system and sits behind a private gate.”
I looked at Emma.
She was pretending not to listen again.
“Fine.”
We left through the back entrance to avoid anyone who might still be watching from the street.
That felt ridiculous until I saw a woman across the road holding her phone at chest height.
She lowered it when I looked at her.
The video had changed things already.
We were no longer just a family having a private disaster.
We were content.
Arthur drove the girls in his car.
I followed in mine with Priya.
For the first twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Traffic crawled near the interstate.
A radio station gave a cheerful update about a pumpkin festival.
Priya finally laughed under her breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“The world is very committed to being normal.”
I looked at the minivan beside us.
A toddler was licking the window.
“Apparently.”
Priya rested her head against the seat.
“I haven’t told my mother I lost my job.”
“You don’t know that you did.”
“I know.”
“Arthur said maybe.”
“Arthur says maybe when he means yes but wants documentation.”
“That is also true.”
She turned toward me.
“Are you angry with me?”
“Yes.”
Her face fell.
I kept driving.
“I’m also grateful.”
“That’s worse somehow.”
“Why?”
“Because now I can’t decide whether to defend myself.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I knew things were wrong.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t know about your signature.”
“I believe you.”
She looked out the window.
“That doesn’t make the rest disappear.”
“No.”
Another silence.
Then she said, “Mark used to be different.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“People keep saying that like there was a date.”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
“He used to worry about every invoice.”
“He used to worry about every grocery bill too.”
“What changed?”
“Success.”
The answer came too quickly.
I corrected myself.
“No.”
Priya waited.
“Success gave him room.”
“For what?”
“To become more of whatever was already there.”
She considered that.
“My therapist would probably charge me two hundred dollars for that sentence.”
“You have a therapist?”
“No.”
I laughed.
She smiled faintly.
It was the first easy moment between us.
Then her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen and went still.
“What?”
“My mother.”
“Answer.”
“I don’t want to tell her.”
“You don’t have to tell her everything.”
“She’ll hear it in my voice.”
“Probably.”
Priya answered anyway.
For ten minutes, she discussed groceries, blood-pressure medication, and whether the neighbor’s dog had dug under the fence again.
Her mother apparently had no idea her daughter’s career might be collapsing.
When the call ended, Priya stared at the phone.
“She asked if I was eating enough.”
“Mothers have strange priorities.”
“She has no idea.”
“You can tell her when you’re ready.”
Priya nodded.
Then she said, “Diane knew.”
“What?”
“She knew about the forged note.”
My hands tightened on the wheel.
“How do you know?”
“Daniel mentioned he saw her in Mark’s office the week it was printed.”
“Printed.”
Priya caught the word.
“Yes.”
“So he knows when it was created.”
“Maybe.”
“He said three weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“Then the twelve-year-old date is false.”
“Almost certainly.”
The anger returned.
Not hot.
Precise.
“Arthur needs that printer log.”
“He knows.”
“We also need Diane.”
Priya turned toward me.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Clara.”
“I said I don’t know.”
She studied me.
“You’re thinking about confronting her.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“I was afraid you thought it sounded clever.”
I almost smiled.
The lake house looked smaller than I remembered.
My grandfather had called it a cottage, though it had four bedrooms and enough land to make the word insulting.
May you like
The wooden siding had faded.
Leaves packed the gutters.
