Chương 6
“I am remorseful.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
“I’m remorseful that Sophie saw it.”
Eleanor went silent.
Rachel waited.
Then her mother said, “You always make these distinctions so you can feel righteous.”
Rachel looked out the kitchen window.
The neighbor across the street was dragging a recycling bin toward the curb in slippers.
“I learned from professionals.”
“Rachel.”
“What do you want?”
“I want this family to stop tearing itself apart.”
Rachel thought about the sentence.
It was Eleanor’s favorite kind of sentence. A sentence that sounded like peace while refusing to name the person doing damage.
“Then stop calling the truth a tear.”
Eleanor hung up.
On the fifth day, Evan called.
Rachel was in the grocery store comparing pasta sauces.
She almost did not answer because the number was unfamiliar.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then, “Rach?”
The jar slipped in her hand.
She caught it against her chest.
Nobody had called her Rach that way in three years.
Evan’s voice was older.
Or maybe only unfamiliar.
“Where are you?”
A woman pushed a cart around Rachel and gave her an annoyed look.
Evan said, “Portland.”
“Oregon?”
“Yes.”
Rachel stared at tomato sauce.
“Why?”
“Why Portland?”
“Why did you leave?”
Silence.
“Rachel.”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
“Okay.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I can’t do this in a grocery store.”
“You don’t know where I am.”
“I can hear the scanner.”
Rachel looked toward the checkout lanes.
A machine beeped.
Absurdly, she hated him for noticing.
“Give me one reason not to hang up.”
“Sophie.”
Rachel’s chest tightened.
“What about her?”
“How is she?”
“You lost the right to ask that casually.”
“I know.”
“No, you all keep saying that. You, Daniel, Dad. I know. I know. None of you knew enough to do anything.”
“I deserve that.”
“Stop being agreeable.”
Evan exhaled.
“Fine. You transferred me eight thousand dollars.”
Rachel gripped the cart.
“Yes.”
“You remember the text I sent?”
HELP ME GET OUT BEFORE YOUR FAMILY DESTROYS US.
She remembered every letter.
“I thought you were in trouble.”
“I was.”
“You let everyone believe I helped you steal from my father.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because part of what Lauren accused me of was true.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
There it was.
No clean innocence.
“What part?”
“I signed transfers I shouldn’t have signed.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Why?”
“Lauren said the assistance account was temporarily covering a vendor shortfall and she’d reverse it before payroll closed.”
“You believed her?”
“At first.”
“Why?”
“Because she was your sister and Walter’s operations manager and I was an idiot who wanted people to think I understood a job I’d only been doing six months.”
Rachel opened her eyes.
A stock clerk was arranging boxes of cereal nearby.
Normal life continued with insulting confidence.
“And after you stopped believing her?”
“I confronted her.”
“Harold knew.”
“Yes.”
“What did Harold know?”
“That she had created Lark.”
Rachel leaned against the cart.
“Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
“I tried.”
“No. Daniel heard you say you were going to.”
“I went to his office.”
“And?”
“He wasn’t there.”
“So you waited?”
“I made a worse decision.”
Rachel said nothing.
Evan continued.
“Lauren knew I’d started using again.”
Rachel’s hand went cold.
“What?”
“A month before.”
“You told me you were sober.”
“I was, until I wasn’t.”
“How long?”
“Eleven days.”
Rachel lowered her voice.
“What were you taking?”
“Pills.”
Her eyes burned.
Evan had injured his back at twenty-nine and spent nearly two years sliding between prescriptions, lies, recovery meetings, apologies, and another relapse.
By the time Sophie was four, he had been sober almost a year.
Rachel had believed the worst was behind them.
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“What did Lauren do?”
“She had pictures.”
“Of what?”
“Me buying pills from a guy behind the old bowling alley.”
Rachel pressed her lips together.
“Classy.”
“Yeah.”
“Why did she have pictures?”
“She followed me.”
“Why?”
“Because Harold had started asking questions.”
“And she thought you’d tell.”
“Yes.”
“So she threatened you.”
“She said if I went to Walter, she’d tell you I was using. She’d tell Walter I stole the money to buy drugs. She’d give the photos to the police if there was an investigation.”
“Photos don’t prove embezzlement.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
“I was high, terrified, and ashamed.”
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut.
Not innocence.
Not villainy.
A frightened man making cowardly decisions inside a trap partly of his own making.
It was worse because it sounded like Evan.
“What happened to the money I sent?”
“Treatment.”
She opened her eyes.
“What?”
“I went to a private detox outside Boise. Then a residential program. The eight thousand covered part of it.”
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have come home after.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
His answer took too long.
Rachel whispered, “Why?”
“Because by the time I was sober enough to think straight, your dad had called me a thief. Lauren told me you believed her.”
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“And you believed Lauren.”
“I called.”
“When?”
“Six weeks after I left.”
“I never got a call.”
“I called the house.”
Rachel went still.
“Which house?”
“Your parents’. Your cell went straight to voicemail. Your dad had told me not to contact you.”
“Who answered?”
“Eleanor.”
Rachel did not speak.
“She said you didn’t want to hear my voice.”
Rachel stared at the floor.
“She said Sophie was doing better without the chaos.”
The grocery store seemed to recede.
“What else?”
“She said if I cared about Sophie, I would stay away until I could prove I was innocent.”
Rachel’s voice came out flat.
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
“For three years.”
“Yes.”
“You could have written me.”
“I did.”
Rachel gripped the cart handle.
“What?”
“Twice.”
“To where?”
“Your parents’ address first. Then the apartment you had after you moved out of the house.”
“I never got anything.”
“The second one came back.”
“And the first?”
“It didn’t.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Eleanor.
May you like
Maybe.
Or maybe the postal service.
