Chapter 4: What She Did Before She Met You
I stepped away from Rebecca's hand.
"I need to make a call."
"Nathan—"
"Go back inside and tell the guests there will be a delay."
"I will not stand in front of two hundred people and—"
"Then don't.
But I'm making this call."
I walked to the far end of the parking lot, past the last row of cars, until the chapel was behind me and the only sound was wind through the trees at the property's edge.
I called the unknown number.
It rang twice.
"I wasn't sure you'd call," the woman said.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Diane Marsh.
I was engaged to Rebecca four years ago.
We were together for three years before that."
I said nothing.
"I know how that sounds," she continued.
"I know you have no reason to trust me.
But I need you to listen, because I stood exactly where you're standing, and I didn't have anyone call me."
"What happened?"
"I had a son.
Marcus.
He was nine when Rebecca and I got together.
She was wonderful with him for the first two years.
Patient.
Warm.
He adored her." A pause.
"Eight months before our wedding, she started talking about a residential program she'd read about.
Said Marcus needed more structure.
Said I was too emotionally involved to see it clearly."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"I didn't listen to the warning signs," Diane said.
"I thought she was trying to help.
I thought I was the one being irrational.
We argued about it for months.
And then one afternoon I came home early from work and found her on the phone with the program coordinator, giving them Marcus's medical history.
Information I had never given her permission to share."
"What did you do?"
"I ended the engagement that night.
She told me I was unstable.
That I'd regret it.
That Marcus would suffer because of my inability to accept help." Her voice was steady, but only just.
"He's thirteen now.
He's fine.
He's more than fine.
But I spent two years wondering if I'd made the right call, because she was so convincing."
I turned and looked back at the chapel.
Through the tall windows I could see the shapes of guests still seated, still waiting.
"Why didn't you come forward sooner?" I said.
"I've been with her for two years."
"I didn't know about you until three weeks ago.
A mutual friend mentioned the wedding.
I tried to reach you through your firm's website but the message went to a general inbox.
I didn't have your number.
I got it this morning from someone who works with your brother."
Three weeks ago.
The same dinner Rebecca had referenced.
The same night she claimed I had said I was struggling.
"She told me I said something at dinner three weeks ago," I said.
"That I admitted I couldn't cope with Emily."
"She does that," Diane said quietly.
"She creates the record before she needs it.
So when you push back, you sound like the one who forgot."
I leaned against someone's car and pressed my free hand over my eyes.
"The deposit," I said.
"She paid it six weeks ago."
"I know.
The program coordinator is a woman named Helen Voss.
Rebecca has used her before.
I have an email chain between them from four years ago.
I can send it to you."
"Send it."
"There's one more thing." Diane paused.
"The program isn't just residential.
It's long-term.
The standard contract is eighteen months, with parental contact limited to supervised visits once a month.
Rebecca would have had legal grounds to enforce that contract once you were married, because as your spouse she would have had shared parental authority."
The wind moved through the trees.
"She wasn't sending Emily away temporarily," I said.
"No," Diane said.
"She was removing her.
Permanently enough that by the time you understood what had happened, Emily would have been there long enough that disrupting her placement would have required a legal process."
My phone buzzed.
Diane's email.
I opened the attachment.
The email chain loaded slowly.
I read the first three lines of the oldest message.
*Helen — following up on our conversation re: placement options for children with attachment difficulties.
The father is cooperative but conflict-averse.
I expect minimal resistance once the marriage is formalized.*
May you like
The father is cooperative but conflict-averse.
She had written that before she had ever met Emily.
