Chapter 7 - A Daughter Divided
Emily didn't believe me when I first told her.
Not because she was foolish. Because the man she loved had spent a year earning her trust, and I was asking her to doubt him three weeks before their wedding.
“He offered you money?” she asked.
“He offered me silence.”
“Daniel says you're misreading the document.”
“Did he show you a copy?”
“No.”
“Then ask him.”
She paced my living room, wringing her hands.
“You never liked Vivian.”
“That doesn't make her honest.”
“Mom, please. You're fighting for your health. Can't we have one good thing?”
That hurt more than she intended. I watched her wipe tears from her cheeks, and I hated Daniel for making us choose between trust and love.
“I want every good thing for you,” I said. “That's why I'm telling you.”
Emily went home to confront him. At eleven that night, she called me back.
“He said the paper was about a foundation donation,” she whispered.
“Did he show it to you?”
A long silence.
“He tore it up.”
The next morning Vivian called. She didn't bother with pleasantries.
“You're upsetting my son.”
“Your son tried to buy my silence.”
“He tried to help a sick woman who isn't thinking clearly.”
“Tell me about Thomas Hale and the Harbor Point site.”
Her breathing changed.
“Stay away from that name.”
“You mean my husband's?”
“You think you're the only person who can lose a child?”
Then the line went dead.
I replayed the last sentence again and again.
May you like
Why would Vivian talk about losing a child when Daniel was standing beside her, very much alive?
Emily once broke her arm falling from a bicycle and apologized to me for the hospital bill before she'd even stopped crying. I remembered that as she stood in my doorway pleading for a peaceful wedding. Her instinct had always been to make hard moments easier for other people. Daniel had learned that, and his family had made use of it. I wanted to shake her awake, but what she needed was proof, a safe place to doubt, and a mother who wouldn't disappear when she became angry.
