Chương 6
“That doesn’t prove he knew.”
“No. It proves this isn’t the first day you’ve had trouble making him stand still inside a fact.”
Claire looked toward Lily’s room.
“I kept him from disappointing her,” she said.
Rebecca’s anger softened. “You kept her father human.”
“I edited him.”
“You loved him.”
“I translated missed calls into busy days. I made excuses when he forgot things. I told her he hated school concerts because crowds made him anxious.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“He hates school concerts because no one important is watching him attend.”
Rebecca looked down at her coffee.
Claire immediately regretted the cruelty, not because it was untrue but because it felt good to say.
“He taught her to ride a bike,” she added.
“I know.”
“He slept on the floor beside her when she had pneumonia.”
“I know.”
“He can be kind.”
“I know that too.”
Claire folded the cardboard sleeve from her cup until it split.
“What if he truly didn’t know at first?”
Rebecca did not answer immediately. “Then what did he do when he found out?”
That question stayed with Claire.
By evening, the hospital had moved Lily from intensive care to a high-observation pediatric room. The new room was smaller and warmer, with a view of a parking structure and the roofs of three brick apartment buildings. Lily remained connected to the monitor, but the oxygen flow had been reduced.
She asked for her phone.
“The police have it,” Claire said.
“Why?”
“They’re trying to recover information.”
“I need to tell Maya I’m alive.”
“Maya knows.”
“Did you tell her?”
“Her mother did.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Rebecca had brought Lily’s tablet, but the hospital’s wireless connection rejected the password twice. Lily watched Claire struggle with it for thirty seconds before sighing.
“You’re doing the zero like an O.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Claire looked. She was.
Lily took the tablet, winced when she shifted, and entered the password with one finger. A flood of messages appeared. Classmates had sent hearts, prayers, question marks, and one photograph of Lily’s empty desk decorated with sticky notes.
She stared at the screen.
“Do I have to answer all of them?”
“No.”
“What if they think I’m rude?”
“They’ll survive.”
“What if they post about it?”
“They already have.”
Lily looked up sharply.
Claire had learned from Rebecca that a local traffic account had posted photographs of the blocked road outside Northstar. Someone identified the injured pedestrian as a student from St. Catherine’s Academy. By afternoon, comments had connected the Northstar SUV to Vanessa Cole, who appeared in company event photographs beside Grant.
Claire did not tell Lily that strangers were already debating whether she had crossed against the light.
“You can stay off social media,” Claire said.
“That makes people think things are worse.”
“Things are bad.”
Lily’s face tightened. “I know.”
Claire sat beside her. “I’m sorry.”
“Everyone keeps talking like I’m asleep.”
“You were asleep.”
“Not all the time.”
The heart monitor ticked steadily.
“What did you hear?” Claire asked.
Lily looked at the tablet. “Dad said he didn’t know.”
“Yes.”
“He always says that when he knows part of something.”
Claire waited.
“I saw messages,” Lily said.
“Between him and Vanessa?”
“On his iPad.”
Grant left the tablet charging in the kitchen most nights. It synchronized with his phone when he remembered to keep the settings active. Claire had stopped looking at it after the hotel receipt argument. Not looking had become a private claim of dignity.
“What did they say?”
“Gross stuff.”
Claire’s stomach turned. “You don’t have to repeat anything that made you uncomfortable.”
“They weren’t pictures.”
“All right.”
“She said he promised after the vote.”
“What vote?”
“I don’t know. Something about the board. She said she was tired of waiting. Dad said she needed to stop contacting him at home.”
“When did you see this?”
“Tuesday.”
Two days before the collision.
“Did you tell him?”
“He saw me.”
Claire felt the room narrow.
“Where?”
“In the kitchen. I had his iPad because mine was dead. A message popped up.”
“What did he do?”
“He took it.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He said adults have complicated friendships.”
Despite everything, Lily rolled her eyes.
Claire almost smiled, but Lily’s face remained tense.
“Then what?”
“I asked if you knew.”
“What did he say?”
“That it wasn’t my business.”
The cruelty of it landed quietly.
Grant had taught Lily that family problems were not her business after bringing them into the kitchen on a glowing screen.
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Did you contact Vanessa?”
Lily looked away.
“Lily.”
“I found her number.”
“How?”
“It was in the message.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I told her to leave us alone.”
Claire felt panic rise, but she kept her voice level. “Did she answer?”
“She called.”
“When?”
“Yesterday morning. During math.”
“And?”
“I hung up.”
“Then the school portal got an authorization for you to leave.”
“I thought Dad sent it.”
“Why?”
“He texted me.”
“Your father?”
“His name came up.”
Claire’s hand moved toward the nurse-call button, then stopped. “What did the message say?”
“That he wanted to explain. That I should meet him in the lobby at Northstar.”
“Did you reply?”
“I said I had a quiz.”
“What did he say?”
“That it couldn’t wait.”
Claire stood too quickly. The chair legs scraped the floor.
Lily flinched.
“I’m not angry at you,” Claire said.
“You look angry.”
“I’m angry. Not at you.”
“I shouldn’t have gone.”
“You believed your father asked you to meet him.”
“I knew something was weird.”
“You’re twelve.”
“That’s not a magic spell.”
“No. It’s a fact.”
Lily turned the tablet facedown. “Dad wasn’t in the lobby.”
“Who was?”
“Vanessa.”
The name seemed to alter the air pressure.
“What did she say?”
“That I was confused. That Dad and her were working on a sensitive project and I could hurt people by repeating private messages.”
May you like
“Did she say your father sent the text?”
“She said he knew I was coming.”
