Chapter 4: Not the First Time
The chair was still rocking on the floor behind Garrett when he said it.
No one moved.
"What did you say?" I asked.
Garrett wouldn't look at his mother.
He was staring at the table, at the centerpiece, at nothing in particular — anywhere but Evelyn's face.
"Two years ago," he said.
"Before you and Daniel moved to Dallas.
Sophie was at Mom's house for the afternoon.
You'd left her there while you went to a doctor's appointment.
Do you remember?"
I remembered.
Sophie had been six.
I'd been gone less than two hours.
"Sophie came home with hives," I said slowly.
"All down her arms.
The doctor said it was probably environmental.
Contact with something in the garden."
"It wasn't the garden."
The room had gone so still that Margaret's quiet exhale was audible.
"Garrett." Evelyn's voice was a single flat note of warning.
He ignored her.
"Mom put peanut oil in the hand lotion she gave Sophie to use.
She said it was for dry skin.
Sophie rubbed it all over her arms."
I sat down.
I didn't decide to — my legs simply stopped holding me.
"She was six," I said.
"I know."
"I thought it was the garden."
"I know.
I told myself it was an accident.
That Mom hadn't thought it through.
That she'd never actually —" He stopped.
Pressed his fingers to his mouth.
"And then tonight happened.
And I can't keep telling myself that."
"Garrett." Evelyn's voice had dropped an entire register.
"You are making a very serious mistake."
"I made the serious mistake two years ago." He finally looked at her.
"When I didn't say anything."
Daniel hadn't moved from his chair.
His face was still in his hands.
I looked at him — really looked at him — and tried to find the man I had married somewhere in the curve of his shoulders.
"Did you know?" I asked him.
"About two years ago.
Did you know then?"
He didn't answer.
"Daniel."
He lifted his head.
His eyes were red.
"She told me it was an accident."
"And you believed her."
"She's my mother, Sarah."
"She is." I stood back up.
"And Sophie is your daughter."
That landed.
I watched it land.
His face didn't crumble — it went very still, which was worse.
Margaret had her phone to her ear.
She stepped away from the table toward the hallway, speaking quietly.
I caught the word "detective" and then she pulled the door half-closed behind her.
Evelyn watched her go.
Then she looked back at me.
"You think you've won something," she said.
"You haven't.
Garrett is a recovering alcoholic with two DUIs.
No one in this county is going to take his word over mine.
And Margaret has hated me for thirty years — any jury will see that."
"I'm not thinking about a jury," I said.
"I'm thinking about my daughter."
"Then think about what happens to her when her father is dragged through a public investigation.
Think about what that does to a child.
Think about the school, the neighbors, the —"
"Stop." The word came out harder than I intended.
"Do not talk to me about what's good for Sophie.
Not tonight.
Not ever again."
Evelyn's chin lifted.
She smoothed the front of her blouse with both hands — a small, composed gesture, like she was preparing to receive guests.
"You'll need a lawyer," she said.
"And lawyers are expensive.
And Daniel controls the joint accounts."
She said it the way someone places a chess piece.
Carefully.
Watching for the flinch.
I didn't flinch.
May you like
Because what Evelyn didn't know — what Daniel didn't know — was that three days in a hospital waiting room had given me a great deal of time to make phone calls.
And one of those calls had been to my own bank.
