Chương 5
It felt obscene to laugh after what had happened.
Then it felt necessary.
Noah brushed his teeth.
At eleven thirty, Sophie was still awake.
Ethan sat in the chair near the window answering messages from his attorney, Mara Bell, who had represented him during the adoption and still handled some of his personal legal work.
Mara’s instructions were simple.
Do not contact Natalie.
Do not question the children repeatedly.
Preserve every text, email, voicemail, and relevant household record.
Do not post anything.
Do not let anyone pressure the children into telling the story again unnecessarily.
A child welfare investigator would likely contact him.
There might be emergency family-court proceedings.
The criminal and family sides of the situation could move on different schedules.
Mara also wrote one sentence twice.
Do not assume the memory card proves what you hope or fear it proves.
Ethan stared at that line.
He did not know what he hoped.
He set the phone down.
“Dad?”
Sophie’s voice came from the bench.
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to send us away?”
“No.”
She picked at a thread on the blanket.
“Mom said maybe you would.”
“I know.”
“She said you didn’t adopt us because you wanted us.”
Ethan waited.
“She said you did it because it made you look good.”
He looked toward Noah.
The boy’s breathing was steady.
Asleep.
“Do you believe her?”
Sophie’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
The honest answer hurt.
Ethan let it.
“All right.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep asking.”
Sophie considered this.
“Were you?”
“Was I what?”
“Trying to look good?”
Ethan leaned back.
He could have said no immediately.
A better man might have.
Instead he looked at the dark window and saw his own reflection.
“When I met you and Noah, I liked that you liked me.”
Sophie waited.
“I liked being the guy who could fix things. Your bike. The broken closet door. Pancakes when your mom burned them.”
“She still burns them.”
“Yes.”
Sophie smiled faintly.
“I liked feeling important to you,” Ethan said. “That’s true.”
“That’s bad?”
“No. But it’s not the same as being a father.”
“What is?”
Ethan looked at Noah asleep across his bed.
“I’m still working that out.”
Sophie seemed disappointed.
He understood.
Children wanted definitions.
Adults were supposed to have them.
He tried again.
“It means I’m here even when you don’t like me.”
“I like you.”
“Give it a few years.”
She rolled her eyes.
That felt wonderfully normal.
“It means I don’t get to quit because this is hard. It means if you’re angry at me, I’m still your dad. If you make a terrible decision, I’m still your dad. If I make one, which I will, I’m still responsible for repairing what I can.”
Sophie’s eyes lowered.
“What if Mom hates you?”
“That’s between your mom and me.”
“She said you hate her.”
Ethan was quiet.
“Do you?”
He looked at his hands.
“No.”
It surprised him that it was true.
Not tonight.
Tonight he did not have enough room inside himself for something as clean as hate.
“I’m very angry with her.”
Sophie pulled the blanket to her chin.
“Me too.”
“That’s allowed.”
“She’s still my mom.”
“I know.”
That was when Sophie cried.
Not loudly.
She turned her face toward the back of the bench and tried to hide it.
Ethan started to stand, then stopped.
“Do you want me over there?”
After a moment, she nodded.
He sat beside her.
She leaned against him.
He put one arm around her shoulders and felt how little she weighed.
At some point after midnight, she fell asleep.
Ethan did not.
The next morning, the house looked offensive in its normality.
Sunlight crossed the marble foyer.
The automatic shades rose at seven.
The coffee machine clicked on because nobody had changed its schedule.
A delivery driver left groceries at the service entrance.
Three work emails arrived marked urgent.
Ethan stood barefoot in the kitchen and stared at a carton of eggs as if it contained instructions he had forgotten how to read.
Noah sat at the island eating dry cereal.
Sophie was scrolling through the school portal on her tablet.
“Do we have to go?” she asked.
“To school?”
She nodded.
“No.”
“I have a math test.”
Ethan looked at her.
“Do you want to go?”
“I don’t want people asking things.”
“They don’t know anything yet.”
“They always know things.”
He could not argue with that.
A message arrived from the school counselor.
Not about the incident.
A reminder about next week’s parent meeting.
Ethan stared at it.
He had accepted the calendar invitation two months earlier.
Natalie had declined.
He had forgotten that.
He opened his work calendar.
Chicago Monday.
New York Tuesday and Wednesday.
Dallas Friday.
He deleted all four flights.
His chief operating officer called within six minutes.
Ethan answered.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
A pause.
His COO, Marcus, had worked with him for eleven years and had never been rewarded for asking personal questions.
“What do you need?”
“Cover Chicago. Move New York to video. Dallas can wait.”
“That bad?”
“Yes.”
Marcus was silent again.
“All right.”
“Do not tell the board anything beyond family emergency.”
“Wasn’t planning to.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Ethan?”
“Yeah.”
“If there’s something you need that isn’t work, say so.”
Ethan almost answered automatically.
I’m fine.
He stopped himself.
“I will.”
After the call, Noah was watching him.
“You’re not going away?”
“Not this week.”
Noah looked at his cereal.
“Because of us?”
“Because I need to be here.”
“That means because of us.”
Ethan sat across from him.
“It also means I should have been here more before.”
Sophie looked up from her tablet.
“You had work.”
“Work will survive.”
The words sounded obvious now.
They had not sounded obvious three days earlier.
At nine twenty, the child welfare investigator arrived.
May you like
Her name was Denise Porter.
She wore navy slacks, low black shoes, and an expression that revealed very little.
