Chương 8
Lucy whispered, “Mom?”
“Yes.”
Noah backed into the hallway wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor.
Daniel moved toward him.
Noah held up a hand.
“No.”
Daniel stopped.
The boy pressed both palms against his eyes.
“She’s actually there.”
“Yes.”
“Like right now.”
“Yes.”
“Does she know we’re coming?”
“Yes.”
Noah nodded.
Then he stood up and went to brush his teeth.
The drive to Norwalk took forty-seven minutes because of construction.
No one played music.
Lucy sat in the back with the broken locket in both hands. Daniel had placed the loose photograph inside a clear plastic sleeve rather than risk losing it again.
Noah watched the highway.
After twenty minutes he said, “Did Mom take money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Daniel glanced in the mirror.
“That’s adult information.”
“If she left us for money, I get to know how much.”
The sentence hurt because it was reasonable.
“One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
Lucy gasped.
Noah looked impressed despite himself.
“That’s a lot.”
“Yes.”
“Was she poor?”
“She had debts.”
“So yes.”
Daniel almost corrected him, then stopped.
“Yes.”
“Did you give Elise money?”
“For what?”
“Being our new mom.”
“No.”
“She’s not our mom.”
“No.”
Lucy said softly, “She kind of was.”
Noah looked at her.
Lucy lowered her eyes to the locket.
Daniel kept driving.
That sentence, more than anything from the previous night, showed him the size of the wreckage.
There was no version of the story in which simply finding Rachel restored what had existed before.
A dead mother had become alive.
A living stepmother had become dangerous.
Neither transformation fit neatly inside a child.
The bungalow stood on a narrow street lined with maples and parked cars.
Its white paint was clean but old. A bicycle leaned against the porch. Two terracotta pots held tomato plants that had grown too tall for their cages.
Daniel parked across the street.
Rachel was already standing behind the screen door.
Noah saw her first.
His entire body stiffened.
Lucy whispered, “That’s her.”
Daniel turned off the engine.
Nobody moved.
Rachel opened the door and stepped onto the porch.
She wore jeans and a loose blue sweater. No makeup. White sneakers. Her hands were empty.
She looked exactly like the photograph and nothing like Daniel’s memory.
For eighteen months, he had preserved her at thirty-seven, irritated, exhausted, beautiful in the careless way that had once made him fall in love with her at a friend’s barbecue because she had spent twenty minutes arguing that store-bought potato salad was morally indefensible.
The woman on the porch was thirty-nine.
Alive people aged.
Daniel had forgotten that.
Lucy opened her door.
“Wait.”
Daniel’s voice came too sharply.
She froze.
He took a breath.
“Sorry. Just wait one second.”
Noah’s hand was on his seat belt release.
Daniel looked at both children.
“You do not have to hug her.”
Neither answered.
“You do not have to forgive anybody today.”
Noah looked at him.
“Do we have to talk?”
“No.”
“Can we leave whenever we want?”
“Yes.”
Lucy asked, “Even if she cries?”
“Yes.”
That seemed important to her.
Daniel got out first.
Rachel did not move from the porch.
When Noah emerged, she covered her mouth.
A sob escaped her.
She turned away immediately, pressing the heel of her hand against her lips.
Noah stopped beside the car.
Rachel collected herself before looking back.
“Hi.”
Noah stared.
Lucy moved closer to her brother.
Rachel’s eyes traveled over them in tiny pieces, as if seeing them all at once would be too much.
“You’re tall,” she said to Noah.
His face hardened.
“You’re alive.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Lucy said, “Why?”
Rachel looked at her.
“Why am I alive?”
“Why did you die?”
The question broke something.
Rachel sat down on the porch step.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“No, sweetheart.”
“They planted a tree.”
Rachel bent forward.
Daniel watched her shoulders shake once.
Then she straightened.
“I know.”
Lucy’s face tightened.
“Then you died.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No. People thought I did.”
“Dad thought.”
Rachel looked at Daniel for the first time.
He felt eighteen months of anger rise into his throat.
He swallowed it.
“This isn’t about us yet.”
Her gaze dropped.
“Okay.”
Noah stepped forward.
“Did you take the money?”
Rachel looked at him.
“Yes.”
He flinched as if she had struck him.
Daniel moved closer but did not touch him.
Rachel said, “I need to explain that.”
“Everybody keeps explaining.”
“Noah—”
“You took money and left.”
“Yes.”
His voice cracked.
“How much?”
Rachel stared at Daniel.
He gave her nothing.
“One hundred and eighty thousand.”
“You knew?”
“I knew the amount.”
“Did you spend it?”
“Yes.”
Noah laughed once.
It was an ugly sound.
Lucy reached for his hand.
Rachel did not defend herself.
“I spent some on treatment,” she said. “Some on debt. Some on rent. I still have some.”
“Congratulations.”
“Noah,” Daniel said.
“No, he gets to be angry.”
Noah turned on her.
“Don’t tell him what I get to be.”
Rachel’s mouth closed.
Daniel saw pride flash through him and hated himself for it.
“Can we go inside?” Rachel asked after a moment. “Only if you want.”
Lucy looked at the porch.
“Do you have a bathroom?”
Rachel gave the smallest laugh.
“Yes.”
Lucy looked at Daniel.
He nodded.
The house belonged to Margaret Levin, Rachel explained after they entered, but Margaret was staying with her daughter in Vermont for the summer. Rachel rented the back room and looked after the place.
The living room was small and ordinary. A knitted blanket lay over a sofa. There were three library books on the coffee table, a chipped bowl of peaches, and a fan turning slowly in the corner.
No photographs of Rachel’s children were visible.
Noah noticed.
“Where are our pictures?”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“In my room.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t my house.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
May you like
The agreement disarmed him for half a second.
Lucy returned from the bathroom and stood in the center of the living room, looking around.
