Chương 3
Laura stood.
Daniel came into the hall.
He had left the sliding door open behind him. Voices had started outside, low and overlapping.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
Laura picked up her coat.
“No.”
“Laura.”
“No.”
“I didn’t know she was going to do that.”
“That’s not the problem you think it solves.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sophie looked from one parent to the other.
Laura saw it and stopped.
She closed her eyes briefly.
When she opened them, she said, “Not here.”
Daniel nodded.
It was a defeated nod, which annoyed her.
She did not want him defeated.
She wanted him useful.
“Get her gifts,” Laura said. “The ones from us. Leave everything else.”
Daniel blinked.
“What?”
“I don’t want her opening presents tonight from people who just stood there while your mother told her she wasn’t your child.”
“That isn’t fair.”
Laura looked toward the backyard.
“To the guests?”
“To Sophie.”
Sophie said, “I don’t want them.”
Daniel looked at her.
She stared at the floor.
“I just want my purple box.”
Daniel swallowed.
“The art set?”
She nodded.
“I’ll get it.”
He walked toward the family room.
Laura watched him go.
Sophie pressed against her side again.
“Are we in trouble?”
Laura’s chest tightened.
“No.”
“Is Daddy?”
Laura considered lying.
She didn’t.
“Daddy and I have to talk.”
“Because of Grandma?”
“Because of a lot of things.”
Sophie nodded as though this answer confirmed something she had already suspected.
Children noticed structures before they understood them.
Laura had spent years telling herself that Sophie didn’t notice Margaret’s pauses, her corrections, the way she complimented other grandchildren and evaluated Sophie.
Beautiful dress, Sophie. Did your mother choose that?
Interesting school. Daniel went private, of course.
Such unusual coloring. No one on our side has eyes like that.
Laura had answered each remark.
Sometimes with humor.
Sometimes sharply.
Sometimes by changing the subject because they were at Thanksgiving and Daniel’s father was carving turkey and Sophie was listening.
She had treated each incident as something manageable.
A rude sentence.
An old woman’s prejudice.
A difficult mother-in-law.
She saw now how much labor had gone into making Margaret’s behavior look smaller than it was.
Daniel returned carrying the purple gift box.
A blue bow was crushed under his thumb.
“I’m coming with you.”
Laura took the box.
“Good.”
They walked outside through the front door instead of going back through the party.
Two neighbors stood at the end of Margaret’s driveway talking beside a parked SUV. They stopped when the Bennetts emerged.
Laura could feel curiosity follow them.
Daniel opened the passenger door for Sophie.
“I want Mom,” Sophie said.
“I’m right here.”
“No. I want to sit by you.”
Laura usually did not allow Sophie in the front seat. She was about to explain that when she realized Sophie meant she wanted Laura beside her in the back.
“Okay.”
Daniel looked at Laura.
She handed him the keys.
He drove.
Laura sat beside Sophie.
Halfway home, Sophie fell asleep with her head against Laura’s arm.
The red line on her wrist had begun to fade.
Laura watched it anyway.
Daniel drove without music.
At a red light he said, “I’m sorry.”
Laura looked out the window.
A teenager in the car beside them was eating french fries from a paper bag. He caught Laura looking and turned away.
Daniel said, “I should never have agreed to the test.”
“No.”
“I thought it would end this.”
Laura kept her voice down.
“You thought giving your mother access to our daughter’s DNA would make her respectful.”
“I didn’t give her access to Sophie’s DNA.”
Laura looked at him.
He tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
“I gave my sample.”
“What did she use for Sophie?”
Daniel said nothing.
The light turned green.
Laura felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.
“What did she use?”
“She said she could handle that part.”
Laura stared at the back of his head.
“And you didn’t ask?”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“That she had a toothbrush.”
Laura’s hand closed around the strap of her bag.
Sophie breathed softly beside her.
“A toothbrush from where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel.”
“I don’t know.”
“You let your mother take our child’s toothbrush?”
“I didn’t let her. She already had it.”
“From our house?”
“I assume.”
“You assume?”
“I know how it sounds.”
Laura nearly woke Sophie with the force of her whisper.
“Stop saying that.”
Daniel glanced at her in the mirror.
“What?”
“I know how it sounds. I didn’t think. I was trying to keep the peace. Stop narrating the accident after you drove the car into the wall.”
His jaw flexed.
“Fine.”
“Where did she get the toothbrush?”
“I’ll ask her.”
Laura looked at Sophie.
“No. You won’t ask her. You’ll tell me every single thing that happened before today.”
Daniel drove another block.
Then another.
Laura waited.
That had been one of their oldest disagreements.
Daniel believed silence could soften a problem.
Laura believed silence gave problems furniture.
When they first married, his mother had rearranged Laura’s kitchen while they were on their honeymoon. Daniel had laughed and said she was trying to help. Laura had moved everything back and thrown out the handwritten labels Margaret taped inside the cabinets.
SPICES.
BAKING.
EVERYDAY GLASSES.
She had kept one label for years, stuck to the inside of a junk drawer, because it made her laugh whenever she found it.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Eventually the adhesive failed.
The label disappeared.
The drawer stayed messy.
Daniel said, “She brought it up again three weeks ago.”
Laura looked forward.
“Again?”
He nodded.
“After the family dinner.”
“The dinner where Sophie beat your father at checkers?”
“No. After that. Later.”
“I was there.”
“After you left the dining room.”
Laura felt a headache beginning behind her left eye.
“What did she say?”
“That Sophie didn’t resemble anyone.”
“Your mother has been saying that since she was born.”
“I know.”
May you like
“What changed?”
“She said Dad had told her something years ago.”
