Chương 7
For two hours, Noah watched the highway through Margaret’s rear window. At a gas station near Lafayette, he asked whether he could ride with Ethan.
Margaret said yes before Ethan could.
Noah climbed into the passenger seat and adjusted the air vent away from his face.
“Grandma drives under the speed limit,” he said.
“She always did.”
“She says speeding tickets are a tax on impatience.”
“That also sounds like her.”
They drove for several miles without talking.
Then Noah asked, “Did you love my mom?”
“Yes.”
“More than Madeline?”
Ethan kept his eyes on the road.
“They were different relationships.”
“That means yes.”
“It means I loved your mother at a different time in my life.”
“Grandma says people say different when they don’t want to say more.”
Ethan glanced at him.
Noah’s face remained serious, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.
“You and your grandmother have a lot of sayings,” Ethan said.
“She doesn’t like silence.”
“I noticed.”
Noah returned his attention to the highway.
“Madeline said Mom was the reason you didn’t want me.”
Ethan’s hands tightened around the wheel.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That you only came to the hospital because Mom was sick. That after she died, you didn’t have a reason to keep me.”
“That was a lie.”
“I know now.”
“Do you?”
Noah picked at the torn edge of his suspender.
“I’m trying.”
Ethan let several exits pass before answering.
“Your mother and I loved each other,” he said. “We also argued. We were young, and we thought being hurt gave us permission to hurt back. When she got sick, we had already separated. But you were never part of that fight. I wanted you before she got sick, while she was sick, and after she died.”
“Then why did Grandma get me?”
“Because wanting you and being ready to take care of you were not the same thing.”
Noah looked toward him.
Ethan swallowed.
“I was angry all the time. I worked too much. I didn’t have a proper home. The judge gave me things I needed to do. I did them, but I treated everyone like they were stealing you instead of asking what you needed.”
“Did you scare me?”
“Sometimes.”
“How?”
“I spoke too loudly. I tried to make you come to me when you wanted Grandma. Once I punched a door.”
Noah’s eyes widened.
“Did it break?”
“My hand did.”
That earned another brief laugh.
Then Noah grew quiet.
“Are you still angry all the time?”
“No.”
“Sometimes?”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
“Not yet.”
Noah looked startled.
Ethan smiled slightly. “I assume you’ll give me a reason eventually.”
The boy stared at him, deciding whether the joke was safe.
Then he turned back to the road.
“Grandma says I leave wet towels on the floor.”
“That could do it.”
Margaret and Noah lived in a two-bedroom apartment above a closed pharmacy in a small Indiana town called Bellwether. The stairs leaned slightly to the left, and the hallway smelled of boiled cabbage and laundry detergent.
Ethan had imagined them in dozens of places over the years. None looked like this.
Noah’s room held a narrow bed, a secondhand desk, stacks of library books, and paper models of ships hanging from thread. A faded blue shelf stood beneath the window.
Ethan recognized it.
He had built it for the apartment he once hoped Noah would live in.
Margaret stood in the doorway behind him.
“I took it from storage,” she said.
“When?”
“After we moved.”
“You told me everything was gone.”
“I lied about many things.”
Noah set Bernard on the bed.
“Dad made the shelf,” he said.
Margaret nodded.
“You said Grandpa did.”
“I know.”
Noah turned toward her. “How many things did you lie about?”
Margaret opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Noah looked at Ethan. “Do grown-ups count lies?”
“Usually only when they’re caught.”
Margaret gave him a tired look. “Helpful.”
“I’m not here to help you.”
“No,” she said. “You’re here to win.”
The accusation struck because it resembled the man Ethan had been during the first custody fight.
He looked at Noah’s ships.
“I’m here because he asked me to come.”
Margaret crossed her arms. “And if the judge gives you temporary custody?”
“I’ll follow the order.”
“You’ll take him to Chicago.”
“If that’s what the court decides.”
“You have a house he’s never seen, a school he doesn’t know, and staff who will do everything you don’t have time to do.”
“I’m on leave.”
“For now.”
Noah sat on the bed, listening.
Ethan forced himself to lower his voice.
“I’m not trying to erase you.”
Margaret laughed bitterly. “That is exactly what you’re trying to do.”
“No. It’s what you did.”
The words hung between them.
Noah picked up Bernard and pressed the missing ear flat against the dog’s head.
“Can you both stop?”
Neither adult moved.
“I don’t want to live with liars,” he said. “But that’s everybody.”
He left the room.
Margaret sat on the edge of the bed after he was gone.
Ethan remained near the shelf.
For several minutes, the apartment was quiet except for a washing machine thumping in the unit below.
“I thought I was protecting Lily’s child,” Margaret said.
“He was my child too.”
“I know.”
“You knew then.”
“I knew it in words. I did not feel it.”
Ethan looked at her.
She rubbed both hands over her face.
“Lily called me the night before she went back to the hospital. She said you had missed dinner again. She said Noah kept waking when cars passed because he thought one might be yours.”
“I was in Milwaukee.”
“I know.”
“The hospital wing had failed an inspection. If I left, eighty workers lost a week.”
“There was always a reason.”
“Yes.”
“That was the problem.”
He had no answer.
May you like
Margaret looked toward the hallway.
“When Lily died, you looked at Noah like he was the only thing keeping you alive. That frightened me.”
