Part 4
She stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
“You sent the police?”
“My mother’s security director did.”
“On her instructions?”
“I wasn’t there.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Daniel glanced at the upstairs windows. “Is Sophie awake?”
“No.”
“I need to see her.”
“No, you don’t.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“And it’s one fifteen in the morning.”
“You assaulted my mother in front of her.”
“Your mother held her and told her she might be taken from me.”
Daniel’s face did not register surprise quickly enough.
Clara descended one step. “You knew.”
“I knew Mom was concerned.”
“About what?”
“About Sophie’s behavior around the family.”
“She is seven.”
“She’s been anxious. She refuses pictures. She asks to leave every time she visits Ainsley.”
“You just described a child who does not want to be there.”
Daniel shoved both hands into his pockets. “You’ve made her afraid of us.”
“No. I’ve been trying very hard not to.”
“By hitting my mother?”
Clara looked down the street. Several porch lights had come on. The city was never as private as people with gates imagined.
“I’m not defending the slap,” she said. “I’m telling you what happened before it.”
“Thomas said Mom was holding the bracelet because Sophie was trying to pull it off and throw it.”
“Thomas is protecting his employer.”
“He’s known us longer than you have.”
There it was: tenure as truth.
Clara folded her arms against the damp air. “Did you tell Eleanor I was planning to move?”
Daniel’s eyes shifted.
“I’m not planning to move,” she said. “I applied for a six-week preservation project in Boston. Six weeks. During summer.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I hadn’t been offered the job.”
“You discussed taking Sophie.”
“I asked whether family housing was available. That is called gathering information.”
“Mom saw the email.”
Clara stared at him. “How?”
“It came up on the iPad at the house.”
The iPad had once belonged to both of them. Clara had signed out of her accounts after the divorce, or thought she had.
“And she decided I was abducting Sophie to Massachusetts?”
“She thought you were building a case to relocate.”
“So she started telling our daughter about judges.”
Daniel rubbed his mouth. “I didn’t know she said that.”
“You knew she was talking to Sophie about where she should live.”
“I knew she was reassuring her.”
“Reassuring her that she could be removed from her mother?”
“Clara, lower your voice.”
She did, because Sophie was upstairs.
Daniel stepped closer. “My mother will not let this disappear.”
“Of course not. She finally has something she can use.”
“You gave it to her.”
The sentence landed because it was true.
Clara looked at the blinking hazard lights across the street. “Go home.”
“We need to agree on what happens next.”
“We have a custody order.”
“I can pick Sophie up tomorrow.”
“No. Tomorrow is my day.”
“After tonight?”
“Especially after tonight.”
His expression hardened. “Don’t make me go through attorneys.”
“You brought police to my house.”
“I did not bring them.”
“You only came after they left.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. For a moment, she saw the boyish uncertainty that had once appeared whenever Eleanor entered a room. Then it disappeared.
“I’m asking to see my daughter.”
“At a reasonable hour, according to the schedule.”
“I want to know she’s okay.”
“She asked if you were angry with her because your mother was embarrassed.”
That stopped him.
Clara waited for the denial. Daniel looked up at Sophie’s dark window, then at the brick walkway.
“I’m not angry with her.”
“Tell her tomorrow.”
He crossed the street without another word.
Clara watched him drive away, then returned upstairs. Sophie had rolled into the center of the bed, one hand still resting on Clover. Clara lay beside her until dawn.
At seven thirty, she called Mara Singh, the attorney who had handled the divorce.
Mara answered on the sixth ring with the clipped alertness of someone who had children and no expectation of private weekends.
“Tell me nobody is dead,” she said.
“Nobody is dead.”
“That is not the same as telling me this is good.”
Clara told her.
Mara did not interrupt until the end. “You admitted the slap to the police?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Lying when there is ballroom video would be worse. Did you photograph Sophie’s wrist?”
“Yes.”
“Did you question her extensively?”
“No.”
“Also good. Stop asking her for details now. Write down what she already told you, including her exact words and the time. Don’t coach. Don’t call Eleanor. Don’t post. Don’t answer anyone except me or the police, and call me before you speak to the police again.”
“What about Daniel?”
“Keep everything in writing. Follow the current custody order unless a court changes it. If he arrives angry, do not debate on the porch.”
Clara looked toward the kitchen, where Sophie was building a wall of cereal pieces around her bowl.
“Mara, could he get emergency custody?”
“He can ask.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what I can answer before I read the order and know what evidence they have. You committed a physical act in front of your child. A judge will care. The context matters, but context does not erase the act.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Clara said nothing.
Mara’s voice softened. “I’m not trying to punish you. I need you to understand that remorse and justification are different things. If you blur them, they’ll do it for you and make you look dishonest.”
“I am sorry I hit her.”
“Are you sorry enough to say it without adding the word but?”
Clara watched Sophie eat one cereal piece from the top of the wall.
“Yes.”
“Practice.”
“I’m sorry I hit her.”
“Again.”
“I’m sorry I hit her.”
“And what are you not sorry for?”
“Taking Sophie home.”
“That distinction is going to matter.”
May you like
By nine, Clara’s phone contained thirty-one unread messages. Most were from people who had not contacted her in months.
Are you all right?
