Chương 10
“And you hid it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because by then I had already looked into the house.”
Hannah felt sick.
Richard stared at the concrete.
“I had called a broker. I had searched inheritance rules. I had told Mark that Daniel might have abandoned the Army. I had told Judith you two were having problems.”
“We weren’t.”
“I know.”
“You knew then.”
“Yes.”
A bird landed on the driveway and hopped twice before flying away.
Hannah folded her arms.
“You didn’t make one terrible decision.”
“No.”
“You made one every day.”
Richard nodded.
“That’s about right.”
She hated that answer because it was honest.
“Why were you so sure I didn’t belong?”
He took a long time.
“You didn’t need us.”
Hannah frowned.
“What?”
“Daniel did, before you.”
“That’s not true.”
“It felt true.”
He looked toward the kitchen door.
“When his mother and I were younger, everything was difficult. Money. Work. Kids. Daniel was the one who always came back. If something broke, he fixed it. If Mark got in trouble, Daniel showed up. Lauren called him before she called me.”
“And then he married me.”
“And he stopped fixing everything.”
Hannah almost told him that Daniel had not stopped.
He had simply begun setting limits.
Then she saw that Richard probably knew.
“You resented me because your son became less useful to you.”
Richard winced.
“That’s ugly.”
“It is.”
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“You think I didn’t?”
“No.”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“That’s what makes it worse.”
Richard looked at her.
“If you didn’t love him, this would be easy. I could decide you were just terrible. But you loved him and still did this to him. To me. To Judith. To your granddaughter.”
Richard looked at her belly.
His face broke for the first time.
Not dramatically.
His mouth simply stopped holding its shape.
“I know.”
Hannah turned away.
He said, “Can I see her when she’s born?”
Hannah closed her eyes.
There were questions people asked as if the answer existed immediately.
This was one.
“I don’t know.”
Richard nodded.
“Okay.”
“I’m not saying no forever.”
“I understand.”
“I’m also not promising anything.”
“I understand.”
“If you ever lie to her about Daniel—”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
Richard lowered his eyes.
“If you ever use him to make yourself look better, or tell her I kept her from you, or make her carry what happened between us, you will not get another chance.”
Richard swallowed.
“Okay.”
Hannah looked at him.
“You need to leave now.”
He picked up one bin.
Then another.
At the edge of the driveway he stopped.
“I opened Daniel’s letter to me.”
Hannah’s stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
Richard looked back.
“He told me to stop treating love like ownership.”
Hannah said nothing.
Richard walked to his truck.
After he drove away, she changed every lock.
Not because Brooks told her to.
Because she wanted the sound.
The old deadbolt came out with three screws.
The new one clicked into place at 6:42 in the evening.
Hannah stood alone in the entryway and locked the door.
Then unlocked it.
Then locked it again.
She ate cereal for dinner because the refrigerator was nearly empty.
She sat on the kitchen floor instead of at the table.
At nine, somebody knocked.
Hannah froze.
Then checked the doorbell camera.
Mark stood outside holding a paper bag.
She opened the door but left the chain on.
He looked at it.
“Fair.”
“What do you want?”
“I brought tacos.”
“Why?”
“I thought you might not have eaten.”
“I had cereal.”
“That’s not dinner.”
“It was technically food after six.”
Mark held up the bag.
“Can I leave these?”
Hannah considered.
“Yes.”
He put them on the porch.
“I also wanted to give you something.”
He took a photograph from his jacket.
Hannah opened the door farther.
It showed Daniel at maybe seventeen, asleep in a lawn chair with a ridiculous straw hat over his face. Mark was in the background spraying him with a garden hose.
“I found it packing.”
Hannah took the photo.
“He looks skinny.”
“He was.”
“I’ve never seen this.”
“Mom has boxes of pictures.”
Hannah looked at Mark.
“Does she?”
“Yeah.”
He rubbed his neck.
“I thought maybe June should have copies someday.”
Hannah looked down.
Mark noticed the name.
“You decided?”
“June Elizabeth.”
His eyes filled.
“Grandma.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“That’s good.”
“I thought you might hate it.”
“No.”
“You hate everything.”
“Mostly restaurants where the menu doesn’t have pictures.”
Hannah laughed despite herself.
Mark smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“I helped Dad.”
“I know.”
“I knew he was lying about some things.”
Hannah waited.
“Not Daniel being dead. I swear.”
“I believe you.”
Mark looked relieved, which irritated her.
“I knew Dad wanted you out because he thought the house would be easier to deal with if you weren’t living here.”
Hannah’s hand tightened on the photograph.
“You knew that.”
“Yes.”
“And you packed my crib.”
Mark nodded.
“Why?”
He looked toward his car.
“My divorce cleaned me out. I was living here free. Dad kept saying if the house sold, he’d help me get back on my feet.”
There it was.
Not family loyalty.
Not grief.
Rent.
Money.
Convenience.
Ordinary selfishness.
Hannah almost preferred a grand betrayal.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
This time she believed he meant it.
That did not make forgiveness arrive.
“Okay.”
Mark looked at the chain on the door.
“Do you want me to stay away?”
“For now.”
He nodded.
“Can I text sometimes?”
“About what?”
“I don’t know. The baby. Daniel. Stupid stuff.”
Hannah thought about it.
“Sometimes.”
“Okay.”
He stepped back.
“Hannah?”
“What?”
“Dad wasn’t the only one who made Daniel feel like he had to choose.”
She waited.
“I did too.”
Mark looked down.
“I’m going to have to live with that.”
“Yes,” she said.
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
He left.
Hannah took the tacos inside.
They were cold.
She ate both.
May you like
Three weeks later, the Army held Daniel’s memorial service.
Hannah nearly did not attend.
