“Where’s Sophie?” he asked.
“Upstairs.”
“Everything okay?”
I took out the first note and placed it on the counter.
His eyes landed on it.
For half a second, something flashed across his face.
Then it vanished.
“What’s that?”
“You tell me.”
He unfolded it.
I watched him read the words.
“If Daddy gives Mommy tea in the silver mug, knock it over.”
Daniel sighed.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
A tired, disappointed sigh.
“My mother.”Track Pregnancy
“You knew?”
“I knew she was filling Sophie’s head with nonsense.”
I placed the other notes beside the first.
“She hid pills in our daughter’s hair.”
His eyes sharpened.
“What pills?”
I took the white tablet from my pocket.
Daniel reached for it.
I pulled my hand away.
“Where did Sophie get this?”
“Probably from Ruth.”
“She said she took it from your office.”
The lie came easily.
I hated myself for using Sophie, even to protect her.
Daniel stared at me.
Then he laughed once.
“Claire, I don’t have an office.”
“You have a desk in the den.”
“You mean the drawer where we keep tax receipts?”
“Is that where the pills are?”
His face changed again.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
Daniel stepped away from the counter.
“My mother is sick.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s paranoid. She has been for years.”
“She seems perfectly clear every Sunday.”
“Because you don’t know her like I do.”
He began gathering the notes.
I put my hand over them.
“Don’t.”
“We should throw these away before Sophie sees them again.”
“She carried them into this house.”
“Exactly.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“She has been frightening our child.”
“So have you.”
The words hung between us.
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“Be careful.”
There it was.
Not anger.
Control.
He pointed at the pill.
“Put that down.”
“No.”
“You have no idea what it is.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t identify random medication by looking at it.”
“Why aren’t you asking why Sophie took it from you?”
“Because she didn’t.”
He stepped closer.
“Claire, you have been exhausted. You’re forgetting things. You’re losing track of conversations.”
My skin went cold.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Or do you keep telling me I am?”
His jaw tightened. Then he smiled.
It was the same patient smile he used when I apologized after arguments I couldn’t fully remember.
“Call my mother,” he said. “Ask her what she’s doing.”
“I plan to.”
“Good.”
He walked to the refrigerator.
“Then perhaps we can finally discuss whether Sophie should keep spending Sundays with her.”
I expected him to stop me.
The fact that he didn’t was somehow worse.
I took the notes upstairs and locked myself in the bathroom.
Then I called Ruth.
She answered on the first ring.
“Did you find the blue bead?”
No greeting.
No confusion.
I whispered, “What did you put in my daughter’s hair?”Style Your Hair
“Is Daniel home?”
“Answer me.”
“Is he home?”
“Yes.”
Ruth inhaled sharply.
“Take Sophie and leave.”
My hands began shaking again.
“You used my child to steal medication.”
“I asked her to take one tablet.”
“She’s eight.”
“I know.”
“You told her to check whether I was breathing.”
“Because I have watched you fall asleep in the middle of dinner.”
“I get tired.”
“I became worried about your breathing.”
I leaned against the sink.
“What?”
“At my house. After Daniel brought you coffee.”
I remembered that Sunday. Daniel had picked me up after work, and we collected Sophie together. Ruth had invited us inside.
I drank half a cup of coffee.
Then I woke on her sofa two hours later.
Daniel told me I had been working too much.
“You counted?”
“I was sitting beside you.”
“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“Daniel said you had already seen a doctor.”
“He said it was a new migraine medication.”
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t take migraine medication.”
“I know that now.”
I looked toward the bathroom door.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Three months ago. In your kitchen.”
The memory returned in pieces.
Ruth asking whether I felt safe. Daniel walking in halfway through the conversation.
His arm settling around my waist.
Later, he told me his mother had never forgiven him for moving away after college. He said she created crises to keep people close.
I had asked Ruth to leave.
“You should have tried again.”
“I did. Daniel answered your phone.”
“Then you come to my work. You call the police. You do anything except involve Sophie.”
“I went to the police.”
Her voice broke.
“They asked whether I had proof.”
I stared at the pill in my hand.
“So you made my daughter get it.”Plan Family Trips
“I needed one tablet from the bottle.”
“You needed?”
“Claire, listen to me. I found a bottle in Daniel’s coat when he came to my house two months ago. The label had been removed.”
“What was inside?”
“Prescription sleep medication.”
I knew the name.
A prescription sleep medication.
My mouth went dry.
“He has trouble sleeping.”
“The prescription belonged to his father.”
Daniel’s father had been dead for six years.
Ruth continued.
“I kept the bottle. Two days later, Daniel came back and searched my house while I was at church.”
“How do you know?”
“He moved the photograph beside my bed. Harold’s photograph.”
Her voice became colder.
“My husband spent 32 years moving things and telling me I had forgotten where I put them. I notice when something has been moved.”
I heard footsteps outside the bathroom.
Daniel.
I lowered my voice.
“What does his father have to do with this?”
Ruth went silent.
Then she said, “Harold used to put pills in my drinks.”
Continue reading on the next page ↓
