Chương 6
Something closer to history.
“Did Ava ever say what happened?” I asked.
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Denise said, “Ava was two.”
The reminder hurt.
Two-year-olds do not explain adult problems.
They do not understand questions.
They only remember feelings.
Fear.
Pain.
Faces.
Voices.
I looked at Lucy again.
The thought was unbearable.
“What does this have to do with tonight?” I asked.
Denise closed the folder.
“That is what we are trying to determine.”
The words were honest.
And honesty was terrifying.
Because it meant nobody had the answer yet.
Not the nurse.
Not the social worker.
Not me.
Not even Travis.
Later that night, Rachel convinced me to leave the room for ten minutes.
Not because she trusted Travis.
Because she knew I was about to collapse.
“You have not eaten,” she said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I’m fine.”
Rachel gave me the same look she used when I was seventeen and told her I did not care about failing my driving test.
“You always say that when you are the opposite of fine.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
She handed me a granola bar from her purse.
“You still carry emergency snacks?”
She shrugged.
“You still forget to eat when you’re stressed.”
It was such a normal conversation that it hurt.
For a few minutes, we stood in the hospital cafeteria while strangers drank coffee and complained about vending machines.
A man in a business suit argued quietly with someone on the phone.
A nurse ate soup alone at a corner table.
A teenager slept against her mother’s shoulder.
Life kept happening.
That was the strange thing about disasters.
They only stop one person’s world.
Everyone else keeps buying sandwiches.
“Do you believe him?” Rachel asked.
I looked at the unopened granola bar in my hand.
“I don’t know.”
“That is an answer.”
“I want to.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
I looked at her.
“How can I want to believe someone and still be afraid of them?”
Rachel did not answer quickly.
That was why I loved her.
She never rushed to make pain easier.
“Because love and fear can exist at the same time.”
I looked away.
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
When we returned to Lucy’s room, Travis was standing beside the window.
His phone was in his hand.
A message was open.
“Megan?” I asked.
He nodded.
“What did she say?”
He handed me the phone.
I hesitated before taking it.
The message was short.
You need to tell her the whole truth before someone else does.
I looked at Travis.
“What truth?”
He took the phone back.
For several seconds, he did nothing.
Then he said something that changed the way I saw the entire night.
“Lucy did not fall while I was watching her.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“I was not in the living room when it happened.”
The room went silent.
“You told me you were.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
His face collapsed slightly.
Not dramatically.
Not like someone caught in a lie.
Like someone finally too tired to carry it.
“Because when I came back in, she was already hurt.”
I stepped away from him.
“Where were you?”
He swallowed.
“I was outside.”
“Outside where?”
“The hallway.”
“Why?”
He looked at Lucy.
Then back at me.
“Because I got a phone call.”
“From who?”
He did not answer.
I already knew.
The phone in his hand lit up.
A new message appeared.
One name.
Megan.
And underneath it were four words that made my hands start shaking.
I need to tell her.
The message stayed on the screen for only a few seconds before Travis locked his phone.
Not quickly.
Not like someone hiding something.
Like someone who had already seen the damage and was afraid of how much worse it could become.
I stared at him.
“You were outside.”
He nodded.
“Tell me why.”
He looked toward Lucy.
That was what made my anger hesitate.
Not disappear.
Just hesitate.
Because whatever he was hiding, it involved our daughter.
“I got a call from Megan,” he said.
“When?”
“About twenty minutes before you got home.”
“Why was she calling you?”
“She said she needed to talk.”
“About what?”
He rubbed his hands over his face.
“I didn’t know.”
“That is not true.”
His eyes met mine.
“I didn’t know she was going to say what she said.”
“What did she say?”
He looked at the floor.
“She said Ava remembered something.”
The name felt like a stone dropping into my stomach.
“Remembered what?”
Travis did not answer.
I stepped closer.
“Travis.”
He looked at Lucy again.
Then he spoke.
“She remembered someone else was there the night she got hurt.”
The room seemed to lose sound.
“What?”
“She was older.”
“Two years old.”
“She was three when she started saying things.”
I shook my head.
“You never told me this.”
“Because I didn’t believe it.”
“Why?”
“Because children remember things differently.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“And because I was afraid.”
I stared at him.
“Afraid of what?”
“That if I told you, you would think I was trying to blame someone else.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Megan.”
The answer was immediate.
Too immediate.
“You think she hurt her daughter?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I think something happened that night that neither of us understood.”
I folded my arms.
“So you called her.”
“She called me.”
“And then you went outside.”
“Yes.”
“Why outside?”
“Because I didn’t want Lucy hearing.”
I almost laughed.
“She was unconscious.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Because I needed somewhere private.”
The explanation was reasonable.
That was the problem.
Everything he said had just enough truth to make it difficult.
“What did Megan tell you?”
Travis sat down slowly.
“She said Ava told her something last week.”
“Why would she wait?”
“She didn’t know what to do.”
“Why call you now?”
He looked toward the hallway.
May you like
“Because she heard about Lucy.”
The answer made my skin tighten.
