Chương 10
Noah laughed too.
It lasted only two seconds.
Then he remembered he was angry.
The silence afterward was different.
Not healed.
Not safe.
But human.
Rachel stood.
“I have something for you.”
Noah’s shoulders tightened.
“Not another surprise.”
“No.”
She went to the bedroom and returned with a cardboard box.
She put it on the coffee table but did not open it.
“These are letters.”
Daniel looked at her.
“How many?”
“One for every week.”
Noah stared at the box.
“For how long?”
“Since I left.”
“There’s like a hundred.”
“Eighty-three.”
“You counted.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you send them?”
“I sent some.”
Daniel’s gaze sharpened.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
Noah looked at him.
“Did we get them?”
“No.”
Rachel nodded toward the broken locket in Lucy’s hands.
“The locket was in the eighth.”
Daniel felt heat rise behind his eyes.
“What happened to the first seven?”
Rachel looked down.
“Elise told me you returned them.”
“I never saw them.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Because last month I sent one certified.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What name signed for it?”
“Elise.”
He closed his eyes.
Rachel said, “That was when I searched the school website.”
“And saw the memorial.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I did.”
Daniel’s eyes opened.
Rachel continued.
“I called the department that handled the missing-person case. I told them who I was.”
“What happened?”
“They thought I might be somebody trying to get information. They asked me to come in with identification.”
“Reasonable.”
“I know. I was in Pennsylvania then.”
“What were you doing in Pennsylvania?”
“Working.”
“At what?”
“A residential treatment center.”
Daniel stared.
“As staff?”
Rachel gave him a tired look.
“Yes, Daniel. They did not let me run it.”
The dry sarcasm was so familiar that for one dangerous second he was transported back four years, to their old kitchen, Rachel leaning against the counter while he complained about a contractor.
He hated the ease with which memory could betray anger.
Rachel said, “I drove up two weeks later. Met with the detective. Gave a statement.”
Daniel stood.
“When?”
“Sixteen days ago.”
“Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“I asked them not to.”
He stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to contact the kids carefully.”
“You asked police not to tell the family who thought you were dead that you were alive.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Rachel’s face hardened.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean you do not get to say Elise controlled everything and then tell me you did the same thing sixteen days ago.”
“I wasn’t controlling you.”
“You made a decision for me.”
“I was terrified you would stop me from seeing them.”
“You had been legally missing for eighteen months!”
“I know.”
“You had children grieving you.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Rachel stood too.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth before you make another choice.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
“Now.”
“Yes, now.”
“Because Noah found a locket.”
“No. Because I sent it.”
“To my house.”
“To my children.”
“Through the woman who had been intercepting your mail.”
“I didn’t know she would sign for it.”
“You knew she lived there.”
Rachel’s face flushed.
Noah stood.
“Stop.”
Both adults turned.
He looked furious.
“You’re doing that thing.”
Daniel frowned.
“What thing?”
“The divorced thing.”
Rachel sat down first.
Daniel followed.
Noah remained standing.
“I don’t care who had the better reason,” he said. “I want to know why nobody came to get us.”
Rachel’s face broke.
Daniel looked at the floor.
Noah continued.
“Dad thought you were dead. Fine. You thought Dad hated you. Fine. Elise lied. Fine. But everybody keeps having reasons and Lucy and me just sat there thinking Mom was in the ocean.”
Lucy started crying.
Quietly.
Noah sat beside her and put his arm around her.
Rachel did not move toward them.
That restraint may have been the first right thing she did.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Noah stared at the opposite wall.
Rachel’s voice was rough.
“I don’t have a reason that makes it okay. I was scared. I was sick. I believed things I wanted to believe because they let me avoid facing you. I took money because I needed some of it and because the rest made leaving easier. I told myself I was doing it until I got better. Then every week I stayed away made the next week harder. Then I thought your dad wanted me gone. Then I was ashamed I had believed that. Then I was ashamed I had waited so long.”
Noah’s eyes stayed on the wall.
Rachel continued.
“And none of that changes what happened to you.”
Lucy wiped her nose.
“Were you sad?”
“Yes.”
“Every day?”
“No.”
The answer surprised everyone.
Rachel looked at her.
“Some days I was angry. Some days I was sick. Some days I had work and forgot to be sad for an hour. Some days I laughed. Then I felt guilty for laughing.”
Lucy nodded as if this sounded more believable.
Noah looked at Rachel for the first time in several minutes.
“Did you use again?”
Rachel inhaled.
“Once.”
Daniel’s body went rigid.
“When?”
“Eleven months ago.”
“For how long?”
“One night.”
“What?”
“Pills.”
“Did you overdose?”
“No.”
“Were you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go back to treatment?”
“The next morning.”
Daniel rubbed his mouth.
Part of him wanted to drag the children out immediately.
Part of him knew that old instinct—the demand for simple categories, safe or unsafe, good or bad—had helped create the conditions for all of this.
Rachel said, “I’ve been clean since.”
Noah asked, “Can you prove that?”
Daniel looked at him.
Rachel did not seem offended.
“I can show your dad my treatment records if I choose to, and I can sign whatever releases are appropriate with a lawyer.”
Noah frowned.
“That sounds like a commercial.”
Rachel smiled weakly.
“I work at a treatment center now. We talk like that.”
“Do you have a lawyer?”
May you like
“No.”
Daniel said, “You need one.”
