Chapter 6: What My Mother Said
I answered it.
I don't know why.
Some reflex older than reason.
The habit of a lifetime of picking up when she called.
"Claire." Her voice was smooth.
Composed.
The voice she used when she had already decided how a conversation would go.
"I think we need to talk before this gets any further out of hand."
"Out of hand," I said.
"You're upset.
That's understandable.
But the things you've been telling the police — sweetheart, you're going to embarrass yourself.
You're going to embarrass Marcus.
And for what?
Because Lily had a bad reaction to children's medicine?"
Marcus was watching me.
I put the call on speaker and set the phone on the table between us.
"The doctors found a sedative in her system that isn't sold over the counter," I said.
"The attending physician used the word dangerous.
He used the word intentional."
"Doctors make assumptions.
That's what lawyers are for." A pause.
"Your father has already spoken with ours.
This will be resolved quietly if you let it be resolved quietly.
But if you keep pushing — if you keep talking to that detective — things are going to come out that will hurt you more than they hurt us."
There it was.
"What things?" I said.
"Things about your history.
Your mental health.
The difficulties you had after Lily was born.
The medication you were on." Her voice stayed perfectly even.
"A mother who was struggling.
A child who got into something she shouldn't have.
That's a story a jury understands."
My hands were flat on the table.
I kept them there.
"You're going to tell a jury that I dr*gged my own daughter."
"I'm going to tell a jury whatever protects this family.
That's what I've always done." Another pause.
"Come home, Claire.
Bring Marcus.
We sit down together, we talk, and this goes away.
That's the only offer."
"And Nora?" I said.
The silence was different this time.
Not the practiced pause of a woman choosing her words.
Something else.
Something that took longer to control.
"I don't know what you think you know," she said finally.
"But you don't know anything."
"I know she's alive," I said.
"I know you sent her away when she was two years old because she was inconvenient.
I know you told me she was d*ad and let me grieve her for thirty years." I kept my voice steady.
"And I know that someone at your party said *don't let this become another Nora* while my daughter was unconscious in your dumpster."
Nothing.
"Mom." The word came out harder than I intended.
"Who else have you done this to?"
"This conversation is over."
"It's not.
It's just starting."
"Claire—"
"I have a sister," I said.
"She's been alive this whole time.
And she has been recording your conversations for eight months.
So whatever story you're building with your lawyer — I would think very carefully about how solid it is."
The line went quiet for so long I thought she had hung up.
Then: "You have no idea what you're doing."
"I'm protecting my daughter," I said.
"The way you never protected yours."
She hung up.
Marcus picked up the phone from the table.
He looked at me for a moment.
"She's going to warn your father," he said.
"I know."
"And Vanessa."
"I know." I was already reaching for my jacket.
"Call Hale.
Tell him my parents know we have something.
Tell him Nora is on her way to him right now and he needs to move fast." I picked up my keys.
"I'm going to the hospital to sit with Lily."
"I'll come with you."
"No." I stopped at the door.
"Stay here.
Stay on the phone with Hale.
Don't let anything slow this down."
I drove to the hospital with both hands on the wheel and the windows down, even though it was cold.
I needed the air.
I needed to feel something that wasn't the inside of that room.
When I got to Lily's floor, the nurse at the desk looked up and smiled.
"She's been asking for you," she said.
"And she told Dr.
Patel that she wants a yellow cake with yellow candles and yellow sprinkles and yellow everything."
I almost laughed.
I almost cried.
I did something in between.
I pushed open the door to her room.
Lily was sitting up in bed with a crayon in her hand, working very seriously on a drawing.
She looked up when I came in.
"Mama.
I'm making our house."
I sat down on the edge of her bed.
"Show me," I said.
She held it up.
A square.
A triangle roof.
Two stick figures in front.
One tall, one very small, both with yellow hair.
"That's you and me," she said.
"I didn't put the other people in."
"That's okay," I said.
"Just us is enough."
She went back to her drawing.
My phone buzzed.
Marcus.
*Hale executed the warrant.
They're at your parents' house now.*
I set the phone face-down on the chair beside me and watched my daughter color.
Outside the window, the sky was going orange at the edges.
Lily looked up again.
"Mama, is the yellow cake still coming?"
May you like
"Yes, baby," I said.
"It's coming."
