Chương 10
They argued about Noah's bedtime.
They argued about money.
Ethan wanted to establish a college fund large enough to terrify Claire.
Claire wanted him to stop trying to solve fatherhood with financial planning.
He accused her of treating every offer of help like a threat.
She accused him of acting like compromise meant waiting until everyone agreed with him.
Both were right often enough to be annoying.
They also learned each other again.
Ethan had become quieter.
Claire had become harder.
He drank coffee black now.
She still hated olives.
He ran when angry.
She cleaned.
He avoided confrontation until suddenly he didn't.
She confronted everything until she became frightened enough to disappear.
Those discoveries mattered more than the romantic memories.
In November, Richard asked again to meet Noah.
This time he wrote directly to Claire.
Not through an attorney.
The letter was short.
Claire,
I frightened you when you were vulnerable. I told myself I was protecting my son. That explanation does not reduce what I did to you or what it cost Ethan and Noah.
I would like to meet my grandson.
I understand that wanting something does not entitle me to it.
Richard
Claire read it three times.
Then she called Ethan.
"What do you think?"
"I think it's your decision."
"That's a coward's answer."
"It's actually the answer my therapist told me to give."
She laughed.
"You have a therapist?"
"Apparently I have several problems."
"Who knew?"
"Everyone but me."
Claire looked at the letter.
"What do you want?"
Ethan was quiet.
"I want Noah to have choices we didn't."
That answer stayed with her.
The meeting happened in December, nearly one year after the airplane.
Public place.
One hour.
Claire, Ethan, and Sarah present.
Richard arrived early.
He looked older than Claire remembered.
Noah walked in holding the same gray rabbit Lily had carried on the plane because Lily had ordered him to "bring Mr. Rabbit so Grandpa doesn't act weird."
Richard saw Noah.
His composure vanished.
Not completely.
Just enough.
His hand tightened around the back of a chair.
Noah stopped.
Richard said, "Hello, Noah."
"Hi."
"I'm Richard."
"I know."
A familiar answer.
Claire glanced at Ethan.
He had noticed too.
Richard looked at the stuffed rabbit.
"Who's your friend?"
"It's Lily's."
"Ah."
"She thinks you'll behave better if he's here."
Richard looked at Claire.
Claire raised an eyebrow.
He almost smiled.
"Your sister may be correct."
They sat.
The conversation was awkward.
Good.
Claire had feared charm.
Instead, Richard seemed unsure what six-year-olds liked.
He asked about school.
Noah said it was fine.
He asked about sports.
Noah said baseball was okay.
He asked about Christmas.
Noah said he wanted a gecko.
Richard looked at Ethan.
Ethan said, "Don't."
"I wasn't—"
"No gecko."
Noah sighed.
Richard's mouth twitched.
Then Noah asked, "Did you want me dead?"
Everything stopped.
Claire closed her eyes.
Ethan whispered, "Jesus."
Richard looked at Noah.
"No."
"You scared Mom."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Richard took a long time.
"Because I was afraid."
"Of a baby?"
"Of losing control."
Noah frowned.
"That's weird."
"Yes."
"Mom says being scared doesn't mean you can be mean."
Richard looked at Claire.
"Your mother is right."
Claire had waited years to hear Richard Cole admit she was right about anything.
It brought surprisingly little satisfaction.
Noah adjusted the rabbit.
"Are you sorry?"
"Yes."
"To me?"
Richard's eyes lowered.
"To you. To your mother. To your father."
Noah considered that.
Then he said, "Okay."
Claire tensed.
Richard did too.
Noah added, "I'm not calling you Grandpa yet."
Richard nodded.
"That's fair."
It was not forgiveness.
It was an hour.
Then another, months later.
Trust came in pieces.
So did family.
The anniversary of the flight arrived almost unnoticed.
Claire remembered only because Noah brought home a Christmas drawing from school.
He placed it on the kitchen table.
Claire was making pasta.
Lily was under the table for reasons she refused to explain.
Ethan was trying to fix a cabinet hinge.
"You know that's been broken for three years," Claire said.
"That explains why the screw is stripped."
"I had a system."
"Your system was not opening it."
"Effective."
Noah spread out the drawing.
"Look."
Claire wiped her hands.
The picture showed a Christmas tree.
Lily.
Claire.
Noah.
Sarah.
Ethan.
Victoria.
There was another figure at the edge.
Richard.
No faces were particularly accurate.
Ethan's hair was blue.
Claire had enormous hands.
Lily appeared to be the same size as everyone else.
The gray rabbit was nearly as large as Richard.
Claire smiled.
"That's a lot of people."
Noah nodded.
Ethan looked over her shoulder.
"Why is my hair blue?"
"I ran out of black."
"Why does your mother get brown?"
"She complained first."
"Smart."
Claire looked at the picture again.
She remembered the airplane.
The slap.
The red pencil.
The faceless father.
She remembered Ethan's expression when Noah said his dad didn't know he was alive.
For a long time, Claire had believed that moment was the worst thing she had ever done: exposing her son to a truth she had tried desperately to control.
Now she understood something less comfortable.
The worst thing had been believing she could control truth indefinitely.
Noah picked up a red pencil.
The same color as the one on the airplane, though not the same pencil.
Claire had thrown that one away accidentally months ago with a restaurant placemat.
Not everything became a keepsake.
"Mom."
"Yeah?"
"Move."
She stepped aside.
Noah added something beneath Ethan's feet.
"What is that?" Ethan asked.
"A suitcase."
"Why do I have a suitcase?"
"You travel."
"Fair."
Lily emerged from beneath the table.
"Where's Mr. Rabbit?"
Noah pointed.
"Why is he giant?"
"Because he's important."
Lily accepted this immediately.
Ethan returned to the cabinet.
The hinge fell off.
Claire laughed.
"You made it worse."
"I can see that."
"Do you want help?"
"No."
"You clearly need help."
"I need a different screw."
"That's what men say when they don't want help."
May you like
Ethan looked at Noah.
"Your mother is bullying me."
