Chương 8
Emma set down the tea.
“The payments are automatic.”
“They stopped clearing in February.”
“How do you know?”
“Daniel called me.”
Emma felt heat crawl up her neck.
“When?”
“March.”
“Why?”
“He asked for money.”
“You gave him money?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I asked questions.”
“Dad.”
“He said he had moved some cash around.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Emma reached for her phone.
Robert stopped her with one sentence.
“The mortgage is current.”
She stared.
“How?”
“I paid the arrears.”
Emma pushed away from the table.
“You what?”
“I wasn’t letting the house go into default while you and Noah were still legally tied to it.”
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
The admission disarmed her more than an argument.
Robert continued.
“I also spoke with an attorney. Your attorney, actually, after you gave permission for us to discuss housing support.”
“I thought that was about staying here.”
“It was.”
“And?”
“And I realized something.”
Emma waited.
Robert looked toward the staircase.
“I was trying to fix your life.”
She said nothing.
“I’ve done that too much.”
Emma almost laughed.
“Lauren would enjoy hearing this.”
“She probably would.”
“You think?”
“I know exactly how much your sister enjoys being right.”
Emma smiled despite herself.
Robert continued.
“So I stopped trying to decide what you should do about Daniel. I stopped trying to rescue your marriage, your mortgage, your job. But Noah is different.”
“Because he’s a child.”
“Yes.”
“He already has legal parents.”
“One of whom vanished for three months.”
“Dad.”
“I’m not insulting you.”
“It feels adjacent.”
“I know.”
He folded his hands.
“The trust wasn’t designed to make Noah rich. It was designed so there would always be one roof he couldn’t lose because an adult drank, divorced, went bankrupt, remarried, got sued, made a stupid investment, or simply changed their mind.”
Emma looked at the papers.
“You could have discussed it with us.”
“With you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have.”
“And Chloe?”
Robert rubbed his face.
“Your mother and I have investments. Retirement accounts. Life insurance. There will be provision for Chloe.”
“Equal?”
“No.”
Emma stared at him.
“No?”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“Life isn’t a spreadsheet.”
“That’s convenient when you’re the person filling in the cells.”
Robert’s mouth tightened.
“You want me to pretend both grandchildren need exactly the same thing?”
“I want you to think about what the difference says.”
“It says Noah receives the house.”
“It says more than that.”
Robert sat quietly.
Emma understood then that Lauren’s pain had not begun yesterday.
It had simply been given a number.
The house was worth a little over six hundred thousand dollars.
Chloe would understand that eventually.
Children became adults.
Adults compared.
Families told themselves money was separate from love until somebody signed paperwork.
“You need to fix this,” Emma said.
Robert’s eyebrows rose.
“The trust?”
“The secrecy.”
“That I agree with.”
“And maybe the plan.”
“That is not your decision.”
“No. But I’m allowed to tell you I think it’s creating harm.”
Robert nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Emma looked at him.
He seemed older than he had that morning.
“When did Daniel learn Rebecca’s name?”
Robert’s face sharpened.
“He did?”
“Lauren says he mentioned her.”
Robert thought.
“The original adoption records.”
“Sealed.”
“He may have had copies you didn’t know about.”
“No. Daniel hated paperwork. I organized everything.”
“People can surprise you.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
Emma picked up her phone.
This time she called.
Daniel answered on the fifth ring.
“What happened?”
No hello.
He sounded sober.
Emma stood and walked into the living room.
“Why do you know Rebecca’s name?”
Silence.
Then, “What?”
“No games.”
“Emma, it’s almost ten.”
“You called my sister and asked whether I’d told Noah about Rebecca.”
Another pause.
“Lauren told you.”
“Yes.”
“She also tell you why I called?”
“We’re talking about Rebecca.”
Daniel exhaled.
“I always knew her first name.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“From where?”
“The paperwork.”
“What paperwork?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember a name from six years ago but not where you saw it?”
“Seven.”
“What?”
“Noah’s almost seven years with us.”
Emma gripped the phone.
“Do you know where Rebecca is?”
Daniel said nothing.
Emma stopped walking.
“Daniel.”
“No.”
“That was not an answer.”
“I don’t know where she is now.”
Now.
Emma closed her eyes.
“When did you know where she was?”
Robert looked toward her from the dining room.
Emma turned away.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“Can we do this tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
“I’m tired.”
“So am I.”
“This is exactly what you do.”
“What?”
“You turn everything into an interrogation.”
Emma laughed quietly.
“Your timing is incredible.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. How did you find Rebecca?”
“I didn’t find her.”
“Then what happened?”
“She found me.”
Emma stopped breathing for a second.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
The room changed.
Two years.
That was when Daniel’s first period of heavy drinking had started.
That was when he began staying late at work.
That was when he stopped attending Noah’s Saturday soccer practices and started telling Emma he felt trapped.
“Why did she contact you?”
“She wanted information.”
“About Noah?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing at first.”
“At first.”
Daniel sighed.
“She wanted to know if he was okay.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That he was.”
“What else?”
“I sent a picture.”
Emma shut her eyes.
“You sent her a picture of our son without telling me.”
“She’s his biological mother.”
“That does not give you the right to secretly reopen contact.”
“She wasn’t dangerous.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“I talked to her.”
“For how long?”
Silence.
Emma’s fingers became cold.
“For how long?”
“On and off.”
“Two years?”
“Not two full years.”
“What does that mean?”
“Emma—”
“What does that mean?”
“Several months.”
Robert had stood up now.
Emma held up one hand to keep him away.
“What did she want?”
“To see him.”
Emma pressed her fist against her mouth.
“And?”
“I said no.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because I knew what you’d say.”
