Chương 9
“She did not authorize entry tonight.”
“That may matter. It may not establish the offense you think it does. The financial allegations are going to people who handle financial allegations.”
Nathan disliked her answer because it was careful.
Callahan noticed. “You’re a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know the difference between a concerning symptom and a confirmed diagnosis.”
He looked at the envelope, now sealed inside an evidence bag.
“Yes.”
“That’s where we are.”
Sarah sat at the kitchen table wearing one of Rosa’s cardigans and Nathan’s old sweatpants. Her swollen foot rested on a chair. She held June against her chest while Thomas slept in a portable bassinet beside her.
Lily sat under the table.
Not beside it. Under it, knees drawn close, eating crackers from a paper towel.
Marcus had been permitted to see the babies from the doorway with a deputy present. He spoke softly to each child. June opened her eyes at his voice. Thomas settled when Marcus rested two fingers against his chest.
Lily would not look at him.
When he asked whether he could say good night, she crawled farther beneath the table.
Marcus did not argue. That restraint bothered Nathan almost as much as anger would have.
Before leaving, Marcus looked at Sarah.
“I love you,” he said.
She stared at the baby in her arms.
“I know you believe that,” she replied.
He left without answering.
By three, the house had become quiet in the exhausted, temporary way of airports after cancellations. Deputy Callahan remained in the entrance hall until another patrol could escort Wesley away for further questioning. The paramedics left Sarah instructions to seek additional care if the color in her foot worsened, if sensation changed, or if confusion returned. Sarah promised.
Nathan did not trust the promise.
He warmed a bowl of soup and set it in front of her.
She took one spoonful, then pushed it away.
“You need calories.”
“I need sleep.”
“You may have a mild cold injury.”
“Did the paramedic say that?”
“I’m saying it.”
“You’re not my physician.”
“No physician would let you sleep without eating something.”
“That is objectively untrue.”
“Eat the soup.”
She gave him the look she had used at sixteen when he tried to enforce their father’s curfew.
Under the table, Lily said, “It tastes like wet socks.”
Nathan looked down. “You ate it?”
“Rosa gave me some.”
“Rosa made it.”
Lily considered this. “Maybe dry socks.”
Sarah laughed.
The sound startled all three of them. Sarah covered her mouth, and the laugh turned into a sob she refused to release. She bent over June, pressing her face against the baby’s blanket until her breathing steadied.
Lily crawled out from beneath the table and stood beside her mother.
Sarah lifted one arm.
Lily did not enter the embrace. She looked at June instead.
“You left us in the car.”
Sarah’s arm lowered.
“I know.”
“You said one minute.”
“I know.”
“It was more.”
“Yes.”
“Rosa had to get Thomas because I couldn’t carry him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You said not to tell Uncle Nathan where you went.”
“I was scared someone could hear you.”
“You made me lie.”
Sarah looked at her daughter. “Yes.”
Nathan waited for an explanation, a justification, something about danger.
Sarah offered none.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Lily picked up a cracker and broke it in half. “Dad says sorry when he wants us to stop talking.”
Sarah’s face tightened. “Then I won’t ask you to stop.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Lily nodded as if uncertainty was more trustworthy than reassurance.
She placed half the cracker beside Sarah’s bowl and carried the other half back beneath the table.
At four-thirty, Nathan found Rosa in the laundry room washing mud from Sarah’s clothes.
“You should sleep,” he said.
“So should you.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You are blinking one eye at a time.”
He leaned against the dryer. “Did Sarah tell you she was coming?”
“No.”
“Did you know about the money?”
“No.”
“Did you know Marcus was monitoring her?”
Rosa wrung water from a sleeve. “I knew he liked information.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No. But it rhymes.”
Nathan watched the washing machine turn. The old appliance had developed a faint squeal his father used to complain about. Nobody had replaced it because Rosa insisted newer machines failed faster.
“I missed it,” he said.
“Most people miss what other people work hard to hide.”
“I’m her brother.”
“You are a surgeon. You believe seeing inside people is the same as knowing them.”
He looked at her.
Rosa continued scrubbing. “Sarah hid because she was ashamed. Marcus hid because hiding was useful. Lily hid because the adults taught her that truth changes depending on who is listening. You hid at the hospital.”
“I work there.”
“You sleep there.”
“Some nights.”
“Many nights.”
He crossed his arms. “This is becoming unnecessarily broad.”
“Life is unnecessarily broad.”
The machine squealed again.
Nathan said, “Marcus was right about one thing.”
Rosa glanced up.
“If Sarah loses custody, I don’t know whether I could raise three children.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“You could pretend to be reassuring.”
“I could also pretend this machine will last another ten years.”
“You told me last month it would.”
“I lied.”
He almost smiled.
Rosa folded Sarah’s wet coat over the sink. “You are not required to know how to raise three children tonight. You are required not to make promises because you are frightened.”
Nathan looked toward the ceiling, beyond which his sister and her children were trying to sleep in separate rooms.
“What am I supposed to promise?”
“Nothing.”
“That seems inadequate.”
“It often is.”
May you like
Morning arrived as a whitening of the windows rather than sunlight. The storm weakened by degrees. Snowplows opened the main road shortly after seven, and the estate began receiving calls.
First came the county child-welfare investigator, who could not reach the property until afternoon but wanted separate video conversations with Sarah, Nathan, and Lily.
