Chương 3
“I didn’t say reasonable.”
Rachel let them argue.
Her attention had returned to the flag case.
The torn seal bothered her.
Not because Brian had possibly opened it.
Because he had opened it badly.
Brian was meticulous when he wanted to hide something. As a teenager, he could take their father’s pickup truck at midnight, return it before dawn, park it in the exact tire marks, and reset the radio station.
If Brian had secretly opened the case, why tear the seal and leave it obvious?
Unless he had been interrupted.
Or unless he had not known there was a seal.
Rachel crouched beside the dining table.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“When did you put Dad’s flag in this case?”
“After the funeral.”
“Who was here?”
Claire stopped arguing with Brian.
“Me. Brian. Grandma, I think.”
Margaret nodded.
“Pastor Ellis came by later.”
“Was the case empty before that?”
“There was another flag.”
“Our grandfather’s?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to it?”
Margaret said, “Daniel asked me to take it.”
Rachel looked at her.
“When?”
“Two months before he died.”
Brian shifted.
Rachel heard the movement.
“He knew he wanted his own flag placed in that case?”
Margaret nodded.
“He told me very specifically.”
“Did he show you the compartment?”
Margaret’s mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Yes.”
Claire turned. “You knew?”
“I knew there was a compartment.”
“And the letter?”
Margaret looked toward Brian.
That glance was enough.
Brian laughed once, bitterly.
“There. See? Everybody has secrets. Rachel has her Army secrets. Grandma has Dad secrets. But somehow I’m the criminal because I’m the one who stayed here and wiped the man’s mouth when he couldn’t feed himself.”
Rachel stood.
The sentence found the place Brian intended it to.
For six months before their father died, Brian had been there far more than Rachel.
That was true.
Rachel had flown in twice from Virginia, stayed long weekends, handled insurance calls, arranged a home-health assessment Daniel rejected, then returned to work because her own life did not disappear simply because her father was dying.
Brian had changed sheets.
Brian had emptied medication cups.
Brian had driven Daniel to oncology.
Brian had cleaned vomit from the bathroom tile.
Rachel knew these things because Claire told her.
She also knew Brian had complained every day while doing them.
The two facts could exist together.
Brian saw something change in her face.
“Yeah,” he said. “That part everybody forgets.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
“You weren’t here.”
“I said I haven’t forgotten.”
“No, you got to be the competent daughter from three states away. Send links. Make calls. Tell everybody which nurse to ask for. Then get on a plane.”
Rachel’s first instinct was to defend herself.
She swallowed it.
Some accusations were unfair.
Some were unfair and still carried truth.
Claire folded her arms.
“Brian, you wouldn’t let her stay last time.”
“Because Dad didn’t want her seeing him like that.”
Rachel looked at him.
“What?”
Brian glanced away.
“That’s what he said.”
“You told me he was too tired.”
“He was.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“He didn’t want you hovering.”
Margaret said, “That isn’t what Daniel told me.”
Brian snapped, “Of course it isn’t.”
“What did he tell you?” Rachel asked.
Margaret hesitated.
The old woman looked suddenly tired.
“He was ashamed.”
Rachel felt her stomach tighten.
“Ashamed of what?”
“Being weak in front of you.”
Rachel looked toward the empty chair at the head of the table.
Her father’s chair.
Brian had sat there during dinner.
She had noticed it when they arrived and chosen not to care.
Now she cared so much she hated herself for it.
Margaret continued. “He said you had already seen enough men broken.”
Rachel lowered her eyes.
Claire looked between them.
“Because of the Army?”
Rachel nodded once.
Brian stared.
“You were actually in combat?”
“I was in places where people got hurt.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It’s the answer I’m giving you.”
Margaret touched Rachel’s arm.
Her fingers were thin and cold.
“Your father worried.”
“He always worried.”
“He was proud too.”
Rachel stepped away before the sentence could do anything visible to her.
“Where’s Evan?”
Claire looked around.
The boy had disappeared.
For one terrible second everyone panicked.
Then a toilet flushed down the hall.
Claire pressed two fingers against her forehead.
“I’m taking him home.”
Brian immediately said, “Caleb said nobody leaves.”
Claire looked at him with such disbelief that Rachel almost laughed.
“Caleb is a lawyer, not the FBI.”
“He said don’t let anyone leave.”
“He said Rachel shouldn’t physically stop anyone.”
Rachel said, “Take Evan home.”
Claire looked uncertain.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“What if—”
“He shouldn’t be here for this.”
That ended it.
Claire collected Evan’s jacket from the hall closet. The boy came back wiping damp hands on his tan pants.
His playing cards were still in one fist.
“Did you wash with soap?”
He stopped.
“Evan.”
He turned around and went back toward the bathroom.
In the old days, their father would have laughed.
Rachel heard the laugh in her memory so clearly that she almost turned toward the chair.
Brian sank back onto the sofa.
Margaret sat.
The turkey cooled untouched on the table.
A skin formed over the gravy.
For several minutes, the Hayes family did something ordinary and absurd while waiting to learn whether one of them had stolen a dead man’s letter.
They packed leftovers.
Claire found containers in the wrong cabinet because Brian had reorganized the kitchen.
Margaret complained that nobody needed six kinds of plastic lids.
Rachel wrapped the sweet potatoes.
Brian did nothing.
When Evan came back, properly washed this time, he hugged Rachel around the waist.
“Does your face hurt?”
“A little.”
He touched his own cheek as though testing the concept.
“Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
“At Uncle Brian?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to throw him again?”
Claire said, “Coat.”
Evan put on his coat.
At the door, Claire paused.
May you like
“I’m coming back after I drop him with Mark.”
“You don’t need to.”
