Chương 3
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Ethan gave a quiet laugh.
Margaret looked at him.
“What?”
“You said that last year.”
Sophie turned toward her brother.
His face changed.
There it was.
Another door.
“How long have you known?”
“Not long.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
Sophie stood.
“Six months?”
“I found something after Dad died.”
“Dad died two years ago.”
“I didn’t understand what I found.”
“Six months, Ethan.”
“I know.”
“You sat across from me at Thanksgiving.”
“I know.”
“You came to my apartment for Christmas.”
“I know.”
“You helped me scan Dad’s papers.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
He stopped.
Sophie walked to the open doorway.
The lake had become rougher. Small waves slapped against the pilings.
She wanted to walk outside.
That was what she had been doing when Ethan grabbed her wrist.
She had been going to tell everyone the caterer had finally found the missing candles.
Five minutes ago.
Maybe seven.
Time had become insulting.
Margaret spoke behind her.
“Daniel was your father.”
Sophie turned.
“You just said he wasn’t.”
“He raised you. He loved you. He was there every day.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
Sophie almost told her not to say that either.
Instead she opened the locket again.
Michael was watching it.
“When was this taken?”
“August of 2003.”
She looked at him.
“I was two.”
“Two and a half.”
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Burlington.”
“Where in Burlington?”
“Waterfront Park.”
The answer came too easily.
Sophie searched his face for pleasure, nostalgia, anything that felt like performance.
There was none.
“You were afraid of the carousel,” he added.
Margaret stood. “Stop.”
Michael looked at her. “She asked.”
“You don’t get to hand her memories.”
“I’m answering her.”
“You are selecting answers.”
“So are you.”
Ethan stepped between them.
“Enough.”
This time both older adults listened.
Ethan looked at Sophie.
“Dad left a letter.”
Margaret went pale.
Sophie noticed.
“Where?”
“At my place.”
“You said you found something.”
“That’s what I found.”
“For you?”
“No.”
The thunder came closer.
Ethan swallowed.
“It was addressed to you.”
Sophie stared at him.
“And you opened it?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“There was another one for me.”
Margaret whispered his name.
He turned on her.
“No. We’re done with that.”
“With what?”
“With you deciding what everybody can survive.”
The sentence hurt Margaret.
Sophie saw it.
Ethan saw it too, because his shoulders dropped immediately.
But he did not apologize.
Michael walked toward the door.
Margaret stiffened.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“Because this isn’t about me right now.”
Sophie surprised herself.
“Stay.”
He stopped.
She did not know why she had said it.
Maybe because Margaret wanted him gone.
Maybe because Sophie was twenty-five and still had enough of the younger sibling in her to confuse defiance with independence.
Maybe because if he left, the unanswered questions would leave with him.
Michael returned to the far end of the table.
He did not sit.
Sophie looked at Ethan.
“Get the letter.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“It’s at my apartment.”
“You live twelve minutes away.”
“The storm—”
“Get it.”
Ethan looked toward the lake, then at Margaret.
Finally he nodded.
“I’ll be back.”
When he reached Sophie, he paused.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at the locket.
“I don’t know what that means yet.”
“Neither do I.”
That, at least, sounded true.
He left.
The first rain struck the dock.
Margaret began gathering champagne glasses.
Sophie watched her.
“Seriously?”
“I need to do something.”
“You could talk.”
“I am going to.”
“When?”
Margaret picked up another glass.
“Mom.”
The glass slipped.
Michael caught it before it hit the floor.
For one second his hand closed over Margaret’s.
She jerked away.
He put the glass on the table.
“Sorry.”
Margaret stared at him.
Something existed between them that Sophie could not read.
Not love.
Not exactly hatred.
Recognition, perhaps. The terrible kind earned by two people who had once known each other well enough to hurt each other precisely.
Sophie sat down again.
“Start at the beginning.”
Margaret looked toward the rain.
“No.”
Sophie laughed once.
“No?”
“The beginning is where people hide.”
Michael’s expression shifted.
Margaret continued.
“They tell you how young they were. How frightened. How much they loved each other. They make the beginning beautiful so you’ll forgive what came after.”
She finally sat opposite Sophie.
“So I’m not starting there.”
“Where are you starting?”
“The night I left him.”
Michael lowered his eyes.
Margaret took a breath.
“You were three.”
Sophie touched the locket.
“You were asleep in the back of my car. I had two hundred and eighty dollars, one suitcase, and a bruise across my ribs I told everyone came from slipping on the stairs.”
Sophie looked at Michael.
He did not defend himself.
That frightened her more than a denial would have.
“Did you hit her?”
“Yes.”
The rain became louder.
Sophie waited.
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said again.
“How many times?”
“Sophie,” Margaret said.
“No. How many?”
Michael looked at the floor.
“More than once.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I could give you a number. It wouldn’t make it better.”
“No, it would make it a number.”
He looked at her.
“Four times that I remember.”
Margaret laughed bitterly.
“Six.”
Michael closed his eyes.
Sophie felt something cold move through her.
Six.
A number was worse.
Margaret folded her hands in her lap.
“The last time, you were in the next room.”
“Did he hit me?”
“No.”
The answer came from both of them.
At exactly the same time.
Sophie looked between them.
Michael's face had gone rigid.
“I never touched her.”
Margaret said, “Not physically.”
Michael flinched.
“What does that mean?”
Margaret looked at Sophie.
“He used you to control me.”
“How?”
“If I tried to leave, he threatened to take you.”
Michael spoke. “I said things I had no right to say.”
“You followed us.”
“Yes.”
“You came to my sister’s house.”
May you like
“Yes.”
“You called my work.”
