Chương 9
Rachel looked at her.
“Neither was I.”
“You don’t understand how much pressure he has been under.”
“There it is again.”
“I am not excusing him.”
“You keep placing explanations where apologies should be.”
Margaret looked wounded.
Rachel almost felt guilty.
Then Margaret said, “Edward was ruthless with him.”
Rachel sighed.
“This is not about Edward.”
“It is partly about Edward.”
“No. It may be partly why Derek is the way he is. It isn’t why he put his hand on me.”
Margaret looked toward the window.
A long time passed.
Then she said, “When Derek was seventeen, Edward made him return a car.”
Rachel waited.
“He had given Derek a used Porsche for his birthday. Derek skipped school three days that month. Edward took the car back and sold it.”
Rachel stared.
“That’s your example of ruthlessness?”
Margaret gave a short, embarrassed laugh.
“I hear it now.”
For the first time, Rachel saw something almost like self-awareness.
It did not redeem her.
It made her more human, which was inconvenient.
Margaret rubbed her thumb along the coffee cup.
“I spent years translating Edward to Derek and Derek to Edward. I told each one what the other meant. Eventually I began telling them what they should have meant.”
Rachel said nothing.
“I became very good at making bad behavior sound temporary.”
“Yes.”
Margaret flinched.
Rachel did not apologize.
“Did you know about the driveway report?”
Margaret’s head lifted.
“What report?”
Rachel watched her closely.
The surprise looked real.
“Daniel documented the day Derek took my keys.”
Margaret stared.
“He documented that?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You were there.”
“I remember.”
“You told me Derek was trying to keep me safe.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“You were upset.”
Rachel nearly stood.
Then Margaret said, “And he was wrong.”
Rachel stopped.
Margaret looked at her.
“He was wrong.”
It was not enough.
It mattered anyway.
Rachel sat back.
Margaret opened her handbag.
For a moment Rachel tensed.
Margaret removed her phone.
“There are messages.”
Rachel did not reach for it.
“What messages?”
“From Derek.”
“When?”
“Over the last month.”
“What kind?”
Margaret stared at the screen.
“He asked me to keep notes about you.”
Rachel’s skin went cold.
“Notes.”
“Sleep. Missed appointments. Times you seemed confused.”
Rachel’s voice came out thin.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The café seemed to tilt.
Margaret hurried on.
“I thought he was concerned.”
“You kept a log on me.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“He said if you needed treatment, a doctor would need accurate information.”
Rachel pushed her chair back.
Margaret grabbed the edge of the table.
“Rachel, wait.”
“No.”
“There’s more.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
Rachel stood.
Margaret looked up at her.
“Last week he asked me to send the notes to his attorney.”
Rachel stopped breathing.
“When did he hire an attorney?”
“I don’t know.”
“You sent them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that was when I understood.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Understood what?”
Margaret’s eyes filled, though no tears fell.
“That he wasn’t collecting information to help you.”
Rachel sat again slowly.
Margaret unlocked the phone.
She did not hand it over.
“I have not deleted anything.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because last night he asked me to say you had tried to leave the house with Noah while you were hysterical.”
Rachel felt nausea rise.
“Did I?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“You went upstairs after the argument.”
“Before the gala.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“You tried to pack.”
Rachel remembered.
Her own hands shoving diapers into a tote.
Derek blocking the bedroom door.
Margaret standing near the dresser.
“Then what?”
“You said you were leaving.”
“I was.”
“Derek said you were not taking Noah.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
The scratch.
His hand reaching.
His ring.
“Why didn’t I leave then?”
Margaret whispered, “I took your car keys.”
Rachel opened her eyes.
Margaret looked sick.
“You?”
“He told me you were too upset to drive.”
Rachel stared at her.
“I gave them back later.”
“After he talked me into staying for the gala.”
“Yes.”
Rachel’s chair scraped as she stood again.
This time Margaret did not stop her.
Rachel walked to the restroom, locked herself in a stall, and threw up.
Afterward she sat on the closed toilet lid.
Her hands shook.
She called Karen.
“I need you to come downstairs.”
Karen arrived twelve minutes later.
Margaret was still at the table.
Rachel had expected her to leave.
Karen introduced herself, asked Margaret whether she was willing to preserve the messages, and explained that Rachel was not asking her to surrender her phone on the spot.
Margaret looked offended.
“I’m not an idiot.”
Karen smiled slightly.
“I don’t assume anyone is.”
Margaret forwarded screenshots and exported the relevant conversation thread while Karen documented what she received.
Rachel watched the progress bar.
It felt obscene that betrayal could be measured in megabytes.
One message from Derek read:
Need dates and specific examples. Not impressions.
Another:
If she says she wants to leave again, call me before you encourage anything.
Another:
Do not tell Dad. He’ll make it dramatic.
And, three days before the gala:
If this gets ugly, I need a record showing I’ve been the stable parent.
Rachel read that one twice.
The stable parent.
Derek had never taken Noah to a pediatric appointment alone.
He did not know where the backup formula was stored.
He had once called Rachel from downstairs because he could not find newborn diapers in a nursery with three labeled drawers.
Yet he had been preparing to become the stable parent on paper.
Margaret whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Rachel looked at her.
“No, you’re scared.”
Margaret flinched.
“Maybe both.”
That answer sounded true.
Rachel gathered her coat.
Margaret said, “Will you let me see Noah?”
“Not now.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rachel—”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret nodded.
For once, she accepted an answer she disliked.
Outside, Rachel stood beneath the hotel awning while cars hissed over wet pavement.
Karen joined her.
“This changes things.”
“Does it fix everything?”
“No.”
May you like
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“I’m starting to hate you.”
