Chapter 7
I did not tell Marcus I had saved the message.
He sent another the next morning, softer this time. He said he had been angry and did not mean to upset me. He asked for a photograph from the prenatal appointment.
I sent both messages to Ms. Porter and followed her advice about how to respond. I wanted our child to know the truth about her father one day. I also wanted every decision about contact to be made with her safety in mind.
The days became a pattern of appointments, calls, and waiting.
I kept working shorter hours at the community center. The children there asked when the baby would arrive. One little girl offered me a drawing of a yellow sun for the nursery.
I pinned it beside the crib at Dad’s house.
One afternoon, Eleanor came to the center. She asked before visiting. We sat in an empty activity room while a volunteer cleared paint cups next door.
“The review found that Vivian’s company received payments Marcus approved,” she said. “Some were for work we can’t verify. The examiner is providing the records to the investigators.”
“Will Marcus lose his job?”
“He’s no longer working for me.”
I studied her. “He’s your son.”
“He is. I can love him and still act on what he’s done.”
I thought about my daughter. I hoped she would never make choices that forced me to learn how Eleanor felt.
“Did George receive money too?” I asked.
“The records show payments to a company he owns. He says they were legitimate. That’s being checked.”
Eleanor’s hands lay flat on the table.
“I want to support you and the baby without making you feel obligated to me.”
“You’ve helped already.”
“I know. If I cross a line, tell me.”
I believed she meant it. That made it easier to say what I needed.
“Please don’t tell Marcus where I’m staying.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t ask me to let him come to the birth.”
“I won’t do that either.”
We sat in silence for a moment. Then she asked if the yellow curtains had found a place. I told her they were hanging at Dad’s house.
“Your mother chose them?” she asked.
“Yes. Before she died.”
“I’m glad you kept them.”
That evening, Naomi came home with takeout and found me washing tiny baby clothes. She helped me fold them while I told her about Eleanor.
“You sound less afraid of her,” she said.
“I am. I still need to make my own choices.”
“You are.”
A week later, the investigator called to ask about the fertility form I had found in my desk. A document examiner had compared it with the lender’s page. The investigator did not give me a final conclusion, but said my signed form and the copied image were important evidence.
Vivian’s messages had also provided a sequence of events. She said Marcus brought the proposed loan to George, who arranged for it to be submitted. Vivian knew my name appeared on the application but claimed she thought I had approved it.
I answered every question I could. When the call ended, I went to the kitchen and found Dad making tea.
“I used to think the truth would arrive all at once,” I said.
“It often takes people a while to admit it.”
He handed me a cup.
Marcus’s lawyer contacted Ms. Porter about discussing the separation and the baby. I agreed to work through the attorneys. Marcus could ask for information about our daughter in a way that did not require him to threaten me.
The first meeting took place without me. Ms. Porter called afterward.
“Marcus says he wants to repair the marriage.”
“He told me he wanted to marry Vivian.”
“He says that relationship has ended.”
I looked at the little yellow sun beside the crib.
“I don’t want to repair it.”
“I’ll make that clear.”
Two nights later, I woke to pain that came and went in waves.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching the clock. The baby was not due for several more weeks.
I called for Dad.
He was beside me before I finished saying his name. Naomi brought my bag. We went to the hospital while the streets were almost empty.
At the desk, a nurse asked for my emergency contact.
“Naomi and my father,” I said.
Then I heard Marcus behind me.
“Emily.”
May you like
I turned. He stood near the entrance, breathing hard, as if he had rushed there.
I had not called him.
