Chương 6
He read the final paragraph twice.
Then he passed the letter to her.
Evelyn wrote that she intended to tell Richard everything after returning from a conference in Santa Fe.
She never returned.
Her car left an icy highway outside Las Vegas, New Mexico, two days later.
The bracelet had been in her suitcase.
Richard had found it among her belongings after the funeral, still inside a small velvet box.
He had assumed it was something she had purchased for herself.
He placed it on her wrist before the casket closed.
He had never looked at the engraving.
Lena lowered the pages.
The room was silent except for the rain.
Ethan whispered, “I found a note with the bracelet inventory.”
Lena looked at him.
“What note?”
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.
Denise shifted closer.
Ethan stopped.
“May I put it on the table?”
Lena nodded.
He placed it several feet from her.
The note was Evelyn’s handwriting.
Two words.
For Lena.
Richard stared at it.
Ethan said, “That’s why I started looking.”
Lena looked at the laboratory report again.
“You could have asked me.”
“I know.”
“You could have asked Richard.”
“I know.”
“You could have opened the letter with him.”
“I know.”
“But you took our DNA instead.”
Ethan’s voice thinned.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
This time she did not let him answer with fear, uncertainty, or good intentions.
“Tell me the ugly version.”
He stared at the floor.
When he spoke, he sounded younger.
“Because if I asked you, you could say no.”
Lena sat back.
There it was.
Ethan wiped his palms against his trousers.
“If Richard said no, I’d still wonder. If you said no, I’d still wonder. And I couldn’t—”
“You couldn’t tolerate not knowing.”
“No.”
“So you decided my right to choose mattered less than your discomfort.”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
Richard turned away.
Martha watched Ethan with an expression Lena could not read.
Ethan continued.
“I told myself I was protecting everyone. That if the test came back negative, I could burn the whole thing and nobody would get hurt.”
Richard looked at him sharply.
“You would have destroyed Evelyn’s letter?”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I meant the test. The investigation. Not her letter.”
“You hid her letter for seven months.”
“Yes.”
Richard’s hand struck the table.
Not hard enough to move it.
Hard enough to end the sentence.
Lena flinched again.
Richard immediately lowered his hand.
“Sorry.”
He looked at her, not Ethan.
“I’m sorry.”
Lena gave a short nod.
Outside, a maintenance vehicle moved along the track ahead, its yellow lights smearing through the rain.
The intercom announced that engineers were inspecting debris and that passengers should expect several hours of delay.
A groan traveled through the neighboring car.
Someone asked loudly whether the bar was still open.
Another passenger laughed.
The normal world had not received the news that Lena Brooks’s life had split into before and after.
Denise’s radio crackled.
She stepped into the corridor to answer it.
Martha rubbed her feet against the carpet for warmth.
Richard refolded Evelyn’s letter along the old creases.
Ethan stood by the door.
Lena suddenly wanted tea.
The desire was so stupid she almost cried.
She did not.
She reached for the silver pot, remembered it had rolled, and found it on its side near the napkin.
Martha picked it up.
“Cold.”
“I know.”
“There’s probably coffee somewhere.”
“I hate coffee.”
Richard looked at Lena.
For some reason that information seemed to hurt him.
“What?”
she asked.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
“Martha hates coffee.”
Lena stared at him.
Then at Martha.
Martha shrugged.
“It tastes burned even when it isn’t.”
Lena looked at the ceiling.
“No.”
Martha blinked.
“No what?”
“No collecting similarities. Not tonight.”
Martha nodded.
“Fair.”
The restraint in the answer was more useful than any apology.
Denise returned.
“Track’s stable, but we’re not moving until the debris crew clears the line. Transportation police have been notified about your report, Ms. Brooks. They’ll meet the train at the next accessible station. That could be after midnight.”
Ethan looked toward Lena.
She did not look at him.
Denise continued.
“We’ve reassigned Mr. Brooks to an empty roomette in the rear sleeper. Staff will escort him if he needs belongings from compartment seven.”
“Thank you,” Lena said.
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
He asked, “Can I say something to her?”
Denise looked at Lena.
Lena almost said no.
Instead she said, “One thing.”
Ethan took a breath.
“I’m sorry I grabbed you.”
She waited.
He seemed surprised.
“That’s it?”
“You said one thing.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
She had once thought his eyes were the calmest thing about him.
Now she saw how much effort the calm required.
“You don’t get to explain it tonight.”
“I understand.”
“No. You understand that I told you not to. That is different.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Go.”
He went.
Lena watched the door close.
Then her body started shaking.
Not dramatically.
Her teeth clicked once.
She put both hands beneath her thighs and pressed them there.
Martha stood.
“I’ll find a blanket.”
“There are blankets behind you.”
Martha turned.
The basket had been beside her chair the entire time.
For a second nobody spoke.
Then Martha said, “Well. That’s humiliating.”
Lena laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Richard looked at her.
Martha pulled out a blanket and handed it over without approaching too closely.
Lena wrapped it around her shoulders.
Richard returned to Evelyn’s letter.
“Did she know I would marry Lena someday?”
The question came from the doorway.
Ethan had not left.
Denise turned sharply.
He stood several feet outside the lounge, pale.
Lena stared at him.
Richard said, “What?”
Ethan’s voice had changed.
“I keep thinking about the photograph. She met Lena when Lena was six. I was eleven when she died.”
Martha looked between them.
Ethan continued.
“Did my mother ever know that our lives might cross?”
Richard’s face hardened.
May you like
“No.”
“How can you know?”
