Chương 5
Corinne saw the screen.
“Who are you calling?”
“Dr. Patel.”
Wren’s pediatrician.
Corinne straightened.
“You are not doing this.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to tell her I hit Wren?”
“I’m going to tell her exactly what I see and ask what we should do.”
“She’ll report it.”
Julian looked at her.
The fear in Corinne’s face was immediate and unmistakable.
He had not thought that far ahead.
Now he did.
A bruise.
Food restriction.
A child saying she was afraid.
Locks on a pantry.
He felt the shape of consequences moving toward them.
Corinne saw his hesitation and stepped closer.
“Julian, please.”
He looked down at the phone.
Her voice dropped.
“It was one slap.”
Desmond appeared in the doorway.
“No, it wasn’t.”
Corinne froze.
Julian turned slowly.
Desmond’s face was pale.
Wren was not with him.
Julian’s pulse jumped.
“Where’s Wren?”
“She’s on the couch.”
“Okay.”
Desmond swallowed.
Then he looked at Corinne.
“You hit her before.”
Corinne stared at him.
“No.”
Desmond nodded.
“Yes.”
“When?”
Julian asked.
Desmond’s eyes filled again.
“In the pantry.”
Corinne whispered, “That is not what happened.”
“You hit her hand with the wooden spoon.”
Julian looked at the spoon on the dining table, then back at his son.
“When?”
“A few days ago.”
Corinne stepped forward.
“She was reaching for the stove.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
“You do not remember correctly.”
“I do.”
“Desmond.”
“I do.”
His voice broke this time.
He wiped his eyes angrily.
“She was getting crackers and you caught her.”
Corinne stopped moving.
Julian looked at her.
She did not deny it.
That was the moment something in him settled.
Not calmed.
Settled.
He pressed Dr. Patel’s name.
Corinne made a small sound.
“Julian.”
He raised the phone to his ear.
“No more deciding inside this house what counts and what doesn’t.”
The call rang twice before the office receptionist answered.
Julian turned away from Corinne and walked toward the windows, though there was nowhere in the house far enough to make the conversation private.
He kept his voice low and gave his name.
The receptionist recognized it immediately.
“Dr. Patel is with a patient, Mr. Mercer.”
“I need advice about Wren.”
There was a pause.
“Is this urgent?”
Julian looked across the room.
Wren sat curled into the corner of the couch with Desmond beside her, one hand still covering her cheek.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Julian opened his mouth.
Corinne stood rigid near the kitchen island, listening.
He could almost feel her willing him to choose a softer version.
“My wife struck her this morning.”
Corinne shut her eyes.
“There’s bruising around her eye and cheek.”
The receptionist’s tone changed.
“Is Wren conscious and alert?”
“Yes.”
“Any vomiting, dizziness, trouble walking, unusual sleepiness, or loss of consciousness?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Did she fall or hit her head?”
“I don’t know.”
Corinne said, “She didn’t.”
Julian glanced back.
The receptionist heard her.
“Who is with you?”
“My wife and our son.”
“Mr. Mercer, I’m going to get the nurse.”
The hold music began.
It was an instrumental piano version of a song Julian could not identify.
The absurd gentleness of it made him grip the phone harder.
Corinne walked toward him.
“You didn’t need to say it like that.”
He kept his eyes on the windows.
“How else was I supposed to say it?”
“You made it sound deliberate.”
“Was it accidental?”
She stopped.
Julian heard the line click.
A nurse introduced herself as Maribel and asked him to repeat what had happened.
He did.
This time he added the locked pantry and the food restrictions.
His voice sounded detached to his own ears.
Maribel asked whether Wren was in immediate danger.
Julian looked at Corinne.
“No.”
The answer came slowly.
“I’m here with her.”
Maribel asked whether Julian could bring Wren to the office.
“Yes.”
“We can see her in forty minutes.”
Corinne whispered, “No.”
Julian ignored her.
Maribel continued.
“Do not give her anything for pain until the doctor examines her unless she is very uncomfortable, and if she becomes confused, vomits, has trouble seeing, becomes unusually sleepy, or complains of severe headache, take her to the emergency department.”
“All right.”
“And Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“Dr. Patel will need to speak with you and Wren privately.”
Julian understood what she meant.
His stomach tightened.
“Okay.”
He ended the call.
Corinne was already shaking her head.
“You can’t take her there and tell them all of this.”
“I already told them.”
“I know that.”
“Then what are we arguing about?”
“Do you have any idea what happens next?”
“No.”
Julian slid the phone into his pocket.
“And neither do you.”
Corinne stepped closer.
“They can call child services.”
“They might.”
“They can open an investigation.”
“They might.”
“They can talk to Desmond at school.”
“Maybe they should.”
Her face changed.
Julian regretted the words almost immediately, not because he disagreed with them, but because he saw what they did to her.
Corinne recoiled as if he had struck her.
“You think I’m dangerous.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“I think Wren is scared of you.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
He glanced toward the couch.
“But I don’t know how different it is anymore.”
Corinne’s eyes filled.
She turned away before the tears fell.
Desmond watched them both.
Julian caught his gaze and forced himself to soften his expression.
“Buddy, can you get Wren’s shoes and her coat?”
Desmond looked at Wren’s feet.
“She has shoes.”
“Her other coat.”
“The yellow one?”
“Whichever one she wants.”
Desmond nodded and went upstairs.
Wren remained on the couch.
Julian approached slowly.
“We’re going to see Dr. Patel.”
Wren’s eyes widened.
“I’m not sick.”
“I know.”
“Am I getting a shot?”
“No.”
“You always say that and then sometimes I get a shot.”
Julian almost smiled.
“Fair.”
Wren studied him suspiciously.
“Probably no shot.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t control needles.”
May you like
That earned the smallest movement at the corner of her mouth.
Then her eyes drifted toward Corinne and the movement vanished.
