Chương 5
“He can go home later,” Dr. Shah said, “but not to the same residence as the person he identified.”
“We live in Brooklyn,” Claire said.
“Good. He may have headaches. Wake him once tonight, and return if he vomits, becomes unusually sleepy, or seems confused.”
Claire asked for the instructions twice.
When the doctor left, Oliver pulled at the edge of the blanket. “Am I going to school Monday?”
“We’ll see.”
“I have my animal report.”
“What animal?”
He stared at her. “Octopus.”
“Right.”
“You printed it.”
“I did.”
“It’s in my blue folder.”
“Then we’ll keep it safe.”
He seemed satisfied by this. A minute later he asked whether the wedding cake would still be cut.
Claire looked at the green adhesive bandage he had placed on the blanket.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“It was lemon.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t get any.”
The ordinary unfairness of it broke something in her. Not enough to make her cry. She had moved beyond tears for the moment. It simply opened a hollow space behind her ribs.
“I’ll get you lemon cake,” she said.
“Not today.”
“No. Not today.”
Natalie came in after Oliver fell asleep.
She had changed out of her heels and carried them by the straps in one hand. Without the shoes, she appeared younger. Her white floral dress was wrinkled at the waist. One pearl earring was missing.
Claire remained seated beside the bed.
Natalie stopped just inside the door. “How is he?”
“No fracture.”
“Thank God.”
“Don’t.”
Natalie nodded as if Claire had struck a line through the phrase.
She set the shoes beneath a chair. “Daniel went back to the estate. The police are searching the cellar.”
“Where is Dad?”
“At the house. His lawyer arrived.”
“Of course.”
“Mom is still there.”
“Of course.”
Natalie moved nearer to the bed but did not touch Oliver. His injured face looked smaller in sleep.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what part?”
Natalie folded her arms. “I should have told you exactly what I saw.”
“Yes.”
“I was trying to understand it.”
“You were trying to decide what Dad wanted you to say.”
Natalie looked toward the window. The hospital parking garage filled most of the view.
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I found a terrified child in a locked cellar on my wedding weekend. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“You were thinking clearly enough to leave out the key.”
“I told the police.”
“After Oliver named him.”
Natalie’s face hardened. “You accused me in front of everyone.”
“You were standing there smiling.”
“I’d been smiling for two days. My face didn’t know what else to do.”
Claire looked at her.
Natalie gave a small, humorless laugh. “That sounds ridiculous.”
“It does.”
“It’s also true.”
For several seconds, neither spoke. A cart rattled in the hallway. Somewhere nearby, a child objected loudly to medicine.
Natalie sat in the chair beneath the window. “I thought maybe Oliver had gotten hurt playing. Dad said he found him after hearing noises. He told me Oliver had locked himself in.”
“The latch is outside.”
“I know that now.”
“You planned the cellar access.”
“I planned which key the catering manager would have. I didn’t stand there studying the latch.”
“You grew up in that house.”
“I avoided the cellar.”
Claire noticed the way Natalie’s fingers tightened around her own wrist.
“Why?”
Natalie released it. “It’s cold.”
“That’s all?”
“Can we not do this while he’s asleep?”
“No. We can do it exactly now.”
Natalie’s eyes filled, but she did not cry. “Dad locked me in the pantry once.”
Claire stared at her.
“I was thirteen,” Natalie said. “You were away at camp.”
“Why?”
“I took money from Mom’s purse.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. An hour. Maybe less.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told Mom.”
“What did she do?”
“She made Dad let me out.”
“And then?”
“She sat with me until I stopped crying. She said he had scared himself with how angry he got.”
Claire turned toward Oliver.
A machine in the corridor chimed twice and stopped.
“Did he hurt you?”
“He grabbed the back of my neck. Not like this.” Natalie gestured toward Oliver’s wrist. “There wasn’t a bruise anyone could see.”
“Not like this,” Claire repeated.
“I’m not minimizing it.”
“It sounds like you are.”
“I’m trying not to turn one memory into proof of another thing.”
“He locked you in a room.”
“Yes.”
“And today Oliver was locked in a room.”
“Yes.”
“By the same person.”
Natalie looked at her sister. “Yes.”
Claire stood too quickly. The chair legs scraped the floor, and Oliver stirred. She froze until his breathing settled again.
“You let me think I was crazy all those years,” Claire said.
Natalie’s brow tightened. “What are you talking about?”
“Every time I said Dad scared me, you said I was dramatic.”
“You called me weak.”
“You were defending him.”
“You were leaving me there.”
The words came out sharper than Natalie seemed to intend. She pressed her lips together afterward.
Claire sat back down.
At eighteen, Claire had gone to college in California because it was the farthest school Richard would pay for. She had told herself she was brave for leaving. Natalie, four years younger, remained in the house until college and returned after graduation to work for the family foundation.
Claire had never asked what leaving had cost the person who stayed.
Natalie rubbed her bare foot against the other ankle. “You came home twice a year and acted like you had escaped a cult.”
“Maybe I had.”
“And I was still in it, so what did that make me?”
Claire looked at Oliver’s sleeping hand.
“I’m sorry I accused you,” she said.
Natalie blinked.
“I saw you standing there, and I believed the worst thing before you spoke.”
“You had reasons.”
“I had habits.”
Natalie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Dad has been drinking.”
May you like
Claire said nothing.
“I found a bottle in his study in May,” Natalie continued. “He said it belonged to a donor. Then I saw him pour from it one night after Mom went upstairs.”
