Chapter 2 - The Room With Fresh Sheets
The clinician told us Wren had painful burns, fortunately limited in area, but she wanted a follow-up and clear instructions for watching for infection. She documented the pattern, listened to Rose without interrupting, and asked to speak with me privately.
"I'm concerned about how this happened," she said. "I also have reporting responsibilities. Your daughter shouldn't return to a place where she may be hurt again."
I wanted to argue that my home was safe. I couldn't say the words.
In the parking lot, Wren slept beside Rose, wearing a soft cotton shirt we'd bought at the drugstore. I called my cousin Hannah. She answered on the second ring.
"Can we come over?" I asked.
"Of course. Has Wren seen a doctor?"
"Yes."
"Then come. June is making up the guest room."
The simple kindness broke something in me. I put my forehead against the steering wheel and cried until I could breathe again.
Rose waited without looking away or pretending she hadn't noticed.
"There are things I need to tell you," she said when I started the car.
"About today?"
"About the last ten months. I wrote them down because I was afraid I'd forget something important."
I turned to her. "Ten months?"
"Since Celia moved in. At first she complimented Wren's braids. Then she told me not to let Wren into the reading room. Then she started telling Wren she'd made you tired of being her father."
I tightened my hands on the wheel.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried last month. Celia said I was jealous of your marriage, and you told me to be more respectful."
I remembered. I'd said it between two work calls without looking up.
At Hannah's, June carried Wren upstairs while Rose brought out a small blue notebook, its back pages crowded with dates and careful handwriting.
May you like
"There's something else," she said. "Celia isn't the only person who's been frightening her."
She turned the notebook toward me. The name written on three separate pages was ELAINE.
