Chương 3
Rachel picked it up.
“We need to call Melissa.”
Their attorney.
“In the morning,” Evan said.
“Tonight.”
“It’s almost nine.”
“She told us to call if anything changed.”
“Nothing about the filing changed.”
Rachel stared at him.
“You don’t know that.”
He looked at the opened envelope.
She was right.
That made him angrier.
Not at her.
He was running out of places to put the anger.
Rachel found Melissa Grant’s after-hours number in her contacts and sent a short message asking when they could speak.
Then she opened the Notes app.
“Time was about seven forty-five.”
Evan leaned against the sink.
“What are you doing?”
“Writing it down while we remember.”
He said nothing.
She typed.
“Lily said Diane told Tom you were making a mistake. Diane slapped her immediately. You picked her up. You kicked the envelope.”
“You can leave that out.”
Rachel stopped typing.
Evan rubbed his face.
“I’m kidding.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I know.”
She resumed.
“What exactly did your dad mean?”
“‘Tell him what you did’?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“He knows something.”
“Obviously.”
“Did you know she had a problem with the adoption?”
Evan looked at her.
“Not like this.”
“That is not what I asked.”
He stared toward the dark window over the sink. His reflection looked older than thirty-six.
“She asked if we were rushing.”
“When?”
“A few times.”
Rachel lowered the phone.
“A few times when?”
“Last year. When we started talking to Melissa.”
“And?”
“And I told her we weren’t.”
“That’s all?”
“Rachel.”
“That is a yes-or-no question.”
Evan’s jaw flexed.
“No.”
She waited.
He hated the way silence could become an accusation even when nobody intended it to.
“She said adoption was permanent.”
Rachel gave a laugh without humor.
“Brilliant legal insight.”
“She asked whether we’d thought about what would happen if—”
He stopped.
Rachel’s face changed.
“If what?”
Evan looked down.
“If you and I didn’t work out.”
There was a quiet click from the refrigerator as the compressor shut off.
Rachel did not speak for several seconds.
“And what did you say?”
“That we had thought about it.”
“We?”
“I had.”
“Evan.”
“I told her it wouldn’t matter. Lily would still be my daughter.”
Rachel folded her arms.
“Why would she ask you that?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“Your mother may be cruel, but she isn’t random.”
He looked at the papers between them.
“No,” he said. “She isn’t.”
Melissa called at 9:17.
Her voice was brisk but not alarmed. Evan appreciated that immediately.
Rachel put her on speaker.
They explained the opened mail first, then the slap, then Tom’s statement.
Melissa asked practical questions.
Was the envelope addressed to Evan and Rachel?
Yes.
Had either of them given Diane permission to open their mail?
No.
Was anything missing from the packet?
They did not know yet.
Had Diane seen earlier copies of the adoption paperwork?
Possibly. She had been in the house before. They had never treated the file as classified information.
Did Lily require medical care?
No.
Had they photographed the mark?
Yes.
Then Melissa paused.
“Most important question. Do either of you have any reason to believe Diane contacted Aaron?”
Evan looked at Rachel.
“No,” he said.
Rachel said, “Not until tonight.”
“Why tonight?”
Evan repeated Lily’s words.
After the judge you’d be stuck forever.
Melissa was silent long enough for Evan to hear keyboard clicks on her end.
“The hearing notice that came today contains the date and case number,” she said. “That information is not magical. It can be obtained. But if someone has been trying to involve Aaron, the exact timing matters.”
“He signed,” Rachel said. “Months ago.”
“He did.”
“So this can’t change that.”
Melissa did not answer immediately.
“What?”
“A consent is important,” she said. “But if Aaron contacts the court or gets counsel and claims there is some reason his earlier agreement should be reconsidered, the court may need to address it. I am not saying he would succeed. I am saying we should not assume nothing can happen.”
Evan felt the counter edge dig into his palm.
Rachel said, “Because of Diane?”
“I don’t know that Diane did anything yet.”
Tom knew.
The thought came so clearly that Evan almost said it aloud.
Melissa continued. “Do not contact Aaron tonight. Do not contact Diane about the case. Preserve messages. Preserve the envelope. Write down what Lily said without coaching her for more. And Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“Do not send your mother the message you are currently composing in your head.”
Despite everything, Rachel let out one sharp breath that was almost a laugh.
Evan did not.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Of course not.”
They ended the call.
At 9:42, Tom texted.
Can we talk tomorrow. Just you and me.
Evan read it twice.
Rachel read it over his shoulder.
“No.”
“He may know what she did.”
“He can tell Melissa.”
“He won’t.”
“Then he’s choosing her.”
Evan set his phone down.
“He’s my dad.”
“And Lily is your daughter.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
The question landed badly.
Rachel knew it immediately.
Her face softened a fraction.
Evan stepped away from the island.
“Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you meant it for half a second.”
“I meant that he doesn’t get special rules because he’s your father.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He had no answer that did not sound worse once spoken.
Rachel looked exhausted. A strand of dark hair had slipped free near her cheek. She pushed it back impatiently.
“I don’t want them near her right now.”
“They won’t be.”
“Your dad included.”
Evan nodded.
“You’re going to meet him.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You want to.”
“Yes.”
She leaned both hands on the granite.
“Then meet him somewhere else.”
Evan picked up his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Setting the alarm.”
“For what?”
“Work.”
She stared at him.
May you like
It was such a stupid, ordinary thing that for a moment both of them looked offended by it.
He had a seven-thirty contractor meeting the next morning about a retaining wall at a medical office complex. Concrete did not care that his mother had slapped his child.
