Chapter 6
The first thing I noticed when I woke up the next morning was that my door was open.
The second was that my suitcase was on the bed, unzipped, my clothes thrown all over the floor.
My heart dropped.
I ran to the mattress, yanking it up, reaching under for the letters.
They were gone.
I spun around.
Evelyn was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, holding the letters in one hand, a stack of papers in the other.
My medical bills.
Mom’s hospital records.
Everything I’d hidden in my suitcase.
“Looking for these?” she said, waving the letters, a cold smile on her face.
I lunged for them, but she stepped back, tucking them into her purse.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Not so fast.”
She walked into the room, closing the door behind her, locking it.
“You thought you were so smart, didn’t you?” she said, walking slow toward me, her heels clicking loud on the hardwood. “Finding Clara’s little letters. Thinking you could take me down.”
I backed up until my legs hit the bed.
“What do you want?” I said, my voice shaking.
She smiled.
“Simple,” she said. “You leave. Tonight. Pack your things and never come back. Tell Daniel the job wasn’t for you. Tell Ethan you don’t want to be his mama anymore. And you never, ever mention those letters to anyone.”
I stared at her.
“And if I don’t?”
She pulled the medical bills from her purse, flipping through them, like she was reading a grocery list.
“Your mother,” she said, soft, like she was talking about the weather. “She’s at Methodist, right? Waiting for that kidney transplant? I have friends on the board. Very good friends. One phone call, and she gets moved to the bottom of the list. Permanently. One phone call, and they find a reason to discharge her. Sick as she is… she’d be dead within a week.”
My blood ran cold.
“You wouldn’t,” I whispered.
She leaned in, her face inches from mine, her eyes cold and dead.
“Try me.”
She turned and walked to the door, unlocking it.
“Midnight,” she said, without looking back. “Be gone by then. Or your mother dies.”
She left, closing the door soft behind her.
I slid down to the floor, my legs giving out under me.
I couldn’t breathe.
I thought of Ethan.
His laugh.
The way he clung to me when he had nightmares.
The way he called me Mama like it was the most natural thing in the world.
I thought of Daniel.
His smile.
The way he’d held my hand in the treehouse.
The way he’d started eating dinner with us every night, telling us stories about when he was a kid.
I thought of Mom.
Her weak smile.
Her cold hand in mine.
The way she’d told me a hundred times that all she wanted was for me to be happy.
I had no choice.
I couldn’t lose her.
I spent the rest of the day acting normal.
I played dinosaurs with Ethan.
I made his favorite mac and cheese for lunch.
I sat with Daniel in the study while he worked, reading a book, neither of us saying much, just happy to be in the same room.
I didn’t let either of them see me cry.
At 1:30 that morning, when the whole house was asleep, I packed my suitcase.
I left two notes on the kitchen counter.
One for Daniel.
One for Ethan.
I told them I was sorry.
That I had to go.
That it wasn’t their fault.
I slipped out the back door, walking to the gate, my suitcase rolling loud behind me on the gravel.
I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
I got to my apartment, unlocking the door, and collapsed on the couch, sobbing so hard my chest hurt.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I stared at it, letting it go to voicemail.
It rang again.
And again.
Then a text.
Ethan is in the ER. He can’t breathe. Please come.
I was out the door before I finished reading it.
I ran three red lights on the way to the hospital, my hands shaking so bad I could barely hold the wheel.
I skidded into the ER parking lot, throwing the car into park, and ran inside.
Daniel was standing by the nurses’ station, pale, his hair a mess, his suit wrinkled.
He looked up when he saw me, and his face crumpled.
“He woke up looking for you,” he said, his voice breaking. “He couldn’t find you. He had a severe asthma attack. They almost lost him twice.”
A nurse came out, smiling tired.
“You can go in now,” she said. “He’s asking for his mama.”
I ran to the room.
Ethan was in the bed, small and pale, an oxygen tube in his nose.
His face lit up the second he saw me.
“Mama,” he whispered, reaching for me.
I ran to the bed, climbing in beside him, holding him as gentle as I could, crying into his hair.
“I’m here,” I said, over and over. “I’m here, baby. I’m never leaving you again. I promise.”
I looked up.
Daniel was standing in the doorway, watching us, his eyes red.
I knew then.
I couldn’t run anymore.
I had to tell him everything.
About the letters.
About Evelyn’s threats.
May you like
About Clara.
About all of it.
