Chương 9
The cousin’s name was Mark Keene.
Thomas had been his uncle.
Mark asked for a phone call.
Daniel spent ten minutes pacing before making it.
Rachel stayed in the other room.
When he finished, he came into the living room holding his phone loosely.
“How was it?”
“Weird.”
“Good weird?”
“No.”
“Bad weird?”
“Just weird.”
Rachel waited.
“He knew about me.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Mark?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Thomas told his brother.”
“Did Thomas talk about you?”
“Apparently.”
Daniel sat.
“He kept a photograph.”
“Of you?”
“A school picture. Fourth grade.”
Rachel went very still.
“How did he get it?”
“Mark doesn’t know. Thomas had it in a desk.”
Daniel stared at the wall.
“He knew what high school I went to.”
Rachel sat next to him.
“Did he ever come there?”
“No. Mark doesn’t think so.”
“What else?”
“He says Thomas regretted agreeing to stay away.”
“That’s difficult.”
“Yeah.”
“Does it change anything?”
Daniel looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
That became the most honest sentence in their house.
The sale sign went up outside Margaret’s home in January.
Daniel drove past once and did not stop.
Emily stopped taking her mother’s rent money.
The decision cost more than she expected.
She moved into a smaller apartment with a kitchen so narrow the refrigerator door hit the opposite counter when opened fully. She complained about it every time Rachel visited.
“This apartment was designed by someone who hates groceries.”
“You could open the refrigerator less dramatically.”
“I refuse.”
Rachel helped her hang curtains with one hand still weaker than the other.
They rarely spoke about Thanksgiving directly.
The friendship between them became easier because of that.
Not closer in a sentimental way.
Just less formal.
One night Emily handed Rachel a box of screws and said, “I should have said something sooner.”
Rachel looked up from the curtain rod.
“About the fall?”
“Yes.”
“You spoke within maybe ten seconds.”
“Not that.”
Rachel waited.
“About Mom.”
Rachel sat on the floor.
Emily leaned against the wall.
“I knew she could get...physical.”
Rachel felt the room change.
“What do you mean?”
“Not hitting.”
“What?”
Emily rubbed her arms.
“When we were teenagers, she grabbed me sometimes. Arm. Shoulder. Once the back of my neck.”
Rachel stared.
“Did Daniel know?”
“No.”
“Did Charles?”
“I think so.”
“What did he do?”
“Told her to stop.”
“Did she?”
“Mostly.”
Rachel looked down.
Emily said quickly, “It wasn’t like what happened to you.”
Rachel looked up.
Emily stopped.
“That’s what people always say,” Rachel said.
Emily’s face reddened.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t trying to minimize it.”
“I know.”
Emily sat beside her on the floor.
“She did it when she felt like we were leaving while she was talking. Or if I turned away.”
Rachel’s wrist seemed to ache inside the healed bone.
“Like the stairs.”
Emily nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“They asked if I’d seen her hurt anyone before. I said no.”
Rachel stared at her.
“That wasn’t true.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Emily picked at a spot of paint on her jeans.
“I told myself grabbing wasn’t hurting.”
Rachel stood.
Her anger came so quickly she surprised herself.
“Emily.”
“I know.”
“You gave a statement.”
“I know.”
“And left that out.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“Because she’s my mother.”
Rachel almost shouted.
She did not.
The answer was too ordinary to fight.
She walked to the small kitchen.
The refrigerator door was open.
A jar of mustard sat on the counter.
Rachel closed the door.
After a minute Emily came in.
“I’ll call the detective.”
Rachel nodded.
“I should.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked sick.
“What if I make it worse?”
“For who?”
Emily had no answer.
She called the next morning.
Margaret learned about the additional statement through her attorney.
She called Daniel despite the request that communication go through counsel.
He answered.
Rachel watched from across the bedroom while folding laundry.
Margaret spoke long enough that Daniel sat down.
When he finally responded, he said, “I didn’t tell Emily what to say.”
More silence.
“No.”
He stood again.
“Stop.”
Rachel stopped folding.
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“You do not get to call my wife a liar.”
He listened.
“No.”
Another pause.
“Because I believe her.”
Rachel looked down at the shirt in her hands.
Daniel continued.
“I believe Emily too.”
Margaret said something.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“That’s the problem, Mom. You keep asking me to believe that everybody else is mistaken.”
He ended the call.
Rachel waited.
Daniel stared at the phone.
“She says you’ve turned Emily against her.”
Rachel resumed folding the shirt.
“Efficient of me.”
Daniel smiled despite himself.
Then his face changed.
“She said Dad knew about the grabbing.”
Rachel stopped again.
“What?”
“She said he knew she had a temper.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“I know.”
“Did she say he approved?”
“No.”
“Then don’t make his failure to stop everything into permission.”
Daniel looked at her.
Rachel immediately regretted the sharpness.
But he nodded.
“You’re right.”
“No, I’m angry.”
“You can be both.”
She sat beside him.
“Do you think he should have done more?”
“Yes.”
The answer came fast.
Daniel looked surprised by himself.
Rachel waited.
“Yes,” he said again. “If he knew she did that to Emily, he should have done more.”
He looked down.
“And if I decide he was still a good father?”
“Then he was a good father who failed at something.”
Daniel leaned against her.
For the first time, Rachel understood that this might be the hardest truth for him.
Not that Charles was not his biological father.
That love did not make Charles perfect.
Blood did not make Thomas important enough.
Harm did not make Margaret incapable of love.
None of the available categories were clean.
In February, Margaret asked to meet Rachel.
The request came through Daniel.
Rachel said no.
A week later she changed her mind.
Daniel asked why.
“I’m tired of imagining the conversation.”
“You don’t owe her one.”
May you like
“I know.”
“You don’t have to forgive her.”
