Chapter 3 - The Words No Child Should Know
Richard carried Maya into the sitting room and shut the door. The gala music drifted up from the ballroom, bright and distant, as if it belonged to another house.
“Who told you that Mommy died because you were born?” he asked.
“Victoria. When I ask about Mommy, she says Mommy would still be here if I hadn't made everything so hard.” Maya's voice cracked. “She says you only married her because I made you lonely.”
“No.” Richard took both her hands. “Your mother loved you. She wanted you more than anything. Nothing you did caused her death.”
Maya searched his face as if she needed to see whether the words were true. Richard thought of the school plays he had missed, the dinners he had canceled, and the nights he had come home after Maya was asleep. He had called it sacrifice. Perhaps it had also been avoidance.
“Has Victoria ever hurt you?” he asked.
“She grabs my arm when I don't do what she says. Sometimes she locks me in Mommy's study when I cry. She says I have to learn to behave before people come over.”
Richard felt anger rise, but he kept his voice gentle. “You did the right thing telling me.”
Maya shook her head. “She says if I tell you, you'll send me away. She says you'll believe her because she's grown-up and I'm just a kid.”
Richard wanted to promise that nothing bad would ever happen again. Instead, he promised something he could control: “I'll listen. And I won't punish you for telling the truth.”
Maya reached inside the hem of her dress and pulled out a folded slip of paper. The edges had gone soft from being handled again and again.
Eleanor's handwriting crossed the page: If anything happens to me, ask Richard to open the blue drawer.
“Where did you find this?”
“In Mommy's music box. Victoria saw me with it and said she'd send me away if I showed you.”
May you like
Richard looked toward the west corridor.
The room he had kept locked since Eleanor's death suddenly felt less like a memorial and more like a warning.
