Chapter 2 - The Smile at Dinner
Beatriz made pot roast that night.
That frightened Ethan more than if she had screamed.
She moved around the kitchen humming, pouring wine, setting the table with the good plates. She kissed Ethan's cheek twice and talked about ordinary things: the dry cleaner, a neighbor's new car, a school fundraiser.
Isabella barely touched her food.
"Eat," Beatriz said lightly.
The fork in Isabella's hand shook.
Ethan watched from across the table. "She's not hungry."
"Children say that when they want dessert."
"I'm not hungry," Isabella repeated.
Beatriz's smile did not change. "Three more bites."
Ethan put his fork down. "She said no."
Silence.
Beatriz laughed. "Okay. Daddy's home, so apparently all structure disappears."
Isabella flinched at the word structure.
Ethan saw it.
After dinner he helped her bathe. She insisted on keeping the bathroom door almost closed, something she had never done before. When she changed into pajamas, Ethan saw more marks on her arm. Thin bruises. A healing scrape near her elbow.
"Bella, did Beatriz hurt you?"
Her eyes widened.
"No."
Too fast.
"You can tell me anything."
"I said no."
She climbed under the blanket and pulled it to her chin.
Ethan sat beside her. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."
"But tomorrow?"
The question hollowed him out.
"Not tomorrow either."
"What about Monday?"
"I'll cancel my trip."
She stared at him as if he had promised to stop the ocean.
"You can't."
"Why not?"
"Because your work is important."
"You're more important."
Her lower lip trembled, but she turned toward the wall.
Later, Ethan waited until Beatriz showered, then went through the kitchen. Nothing looked wrong. Bills were paid. School papers sat in a perfect stack. The refrigerator held Isabella's spelling test with a gold star.
Then he noticed a narrow strip of white paper behind the trash can.
He pulled it free.
It was laminated.
At the top, in Beatriz's handwriting, were the words HOUSE RULES FOR ISABELLA.
Underneath were boxes:
Talking back - no dinner.
Crying after bedtime - twenty minutes outside.
Lying - scrub floor.
Disobeying - garden duty.
Mentioning rules to Dad - double consequence.
At the bottom was a signature.
ETHAN COLE.
His signature.
May you like
Except Ethan had never seen the page in his life.
Behind him, Beatriz said quietly, "You shouldn't be digging through the trash."
