Chương 9
“I heard you.”
“You heard part of it.”
“I heard enough to call the police.”
His face shifted. There it was: the old expression, the warning narrowing of his eyes. Even through a screen, the room seemed to shrink.
Then Daniel noticed everyone watching him.
He looked down.
“I lost my temper,” he said.
Mara waited for more.
Nothing came.
Laura joined the meeting from another room in the building. She supported supervised visits, arguing that Daniel needed an opportunity to repair his relationship with the children.
“Repair requires safety,” Simone said.
“He has followed the order.”
“He used his brother to contact Mara.”
“That has not been proven.”
Mara turned toward the speaker. “He told Uncle Mark I was pushing the worst version.”
Laura’s voice came through, tense and controlled. “Mark has his own opinions.”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
Silence followed.
Mara had said the word to her father many times in her head. Saying it to her mother felt worse.
Laura’s breathing was audible through the microphone.
The family court representative postponed any decision about contact and ordered further assessment. Daniel was required to continue an intervention program and individual counseling if he wanted future visitation considered. Laura would continue supervised visits while the agency assessed whether the children could safely return to her care.
Afterward, Mara found Laura in the parking garage.
Her mother stood beside her car with both hands on the roof, looking for keys inside her purse.
“Mara.”
Claire stopped several yards away.
Laura found the keys but did not unlock the car. “I did not know Mark spoke to you that way.”
“You knew he went.”
“I knew he wanted to check on you.”
“He repeated Dad’s message.”
Laura looked exhausted. “Your father is not allowed to speak to you. That does not mean he stops having feelings.”
“His feelings keep getting delivered.”
Laura closed her purse.
Mara looked at the bruise on her jaw. It had faded weeks earlier, but she still saw it.
“Come stay with Claire,” Mara said.
Laura’s expression opened in surprise.
“You don’t have to stay at the house.”
“I am not afraid to be there.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I have work. I have bills. I have responsibilities.”
“You think Claire doesn’t?”
“That is different.”
“How?”
Laura looked past Mara toward her sister.
Claire pretended to examine a parking sign.
“Because it is my home,” Laura said.
“Is Dad paying the mortgage?”
Laura stiffened. “That is none of your concern.”
“It becomes my concern when you say we might lose it because I called.”
“I should not have said that.”
“But you meant it.”
“I was frightened.”
Mara waited.
Laura gave a tired, bitter smile. “Apparently fear excuses everyone except me.”
Mara felt the cruelty of her own answer before she said it.
“You weren’t the one under the belt.”
Laura turned away.
Mara walked back to Claire.
On the drive home, Claire said nothing for several miles.
Then she asked, “Do you want me to tell you that was too harsh?”
“No.”
“Good, because I don’t know.”
Mara watched concrete pillars pass beside the car. “She wants me to feel sorry for her.”
“She wants you to understand her.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
“It feels the same.”
Claire nodded. “That part may be true.”
In July, Laura asked to meet Mara alone with a supervisor present. The meeting took place in a small conference room at the agency office, without Eli.
Laura arrived carrying no folder.
For several minutes, she looked through the window at traffic moving along the road below. A lawn-service truck stopped at the light. Two workers in fluorescent shirts argued cheerfully through open windows.
“I lied about the bruise,” Laura said.
Mara did not move.
“Your father grabbed me.”
“When?”
“The night before the police came.”
“Why?”
“I told him he was frightening Eli.”
Mara stared at her mother’s hands. The nails were trimmed short, the polish gone.
“What did he do?”
“He put his hand around the back of my neck. His thumb pressed here.” She touched the place below her jaw. “I pulled away and hit the cabinet.”
“Did you take a picture?”
Laura nodded.
“Where is it?”
“I deleted it.”
Mara shut her eyes.
“I was afraid he would find it.”
“Deleted pictures can still be recovered.”
“I emptied the folder.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
Laura looked toward the supervisor, then back to Mara. “Because there are other pictures.”
The room went still.
“Where?”
“In an email account.”
Mara waited.
Laura rubbed her thumb across her palm. “Not my regular one. I created it years ago.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Twelve. Fifteen.”
“Of what?”
“Bruises. Broken things. A hole in the bedroom wall. The bathroom door.”
“Did he hit you?”
Laura’s mouth tightened.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
“How long?”
“Not often.”
Mara stood.
The supervisor shifted but did not intervene.
Laura’s face crumpled. “I know how that sounds.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You let him stay.”
“I tried to leave.”
“When?”
“After Eli was born. Again when you were twelve.”
“Aunt Claire said that.”
“I went back.”
“Why?”
“Because he promised—”
Mara laughed.
Laura flinched. “I know.”
“No, you don’t get to say you know like that fixes it.”
“I am not asking you to forgive me.”
“What are you asking?”
Laura’s eyes filled. “I need help giving the account to the prosecutor.”
Mara stared at her.
“You already know how.”
“I can’t do it alone.”
“You did everything else alone.”
“That was the problem.”
The anger in Mara did not disappear. It widened enough to include something else.
She sat again, but only because her knees had begun to shake.
“Why now?”
Laura looked at the table. “Your father’s attorney sent a letter about the house. He wants me to support his account. He says if I do, he will keep paying his share of the mortgage. If I don’t, he may stop.”
“That’s blackmail.”
May you like
“It may not legally be called that.”
“I don’t care what it’s called.”
