Chapter 10
The next afternoon, Lucy sat in a family room at the pediatric clinic while Chloe colored at a low table. A staff member had offered to stay with her while Lucy spoke with the nurse about the follow-up appointment. Chloe had chosen a purple crayon and drawn a house with every window shut.
Lucy tried not to look at the picture too often.
A knock sounded. Before the nurse could answer, the door opened and George stepped inside, a small overnight bag in his hand.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled at Chloe as if they’d planned a pleasant surprise. “Ready to go?”
Chloe’s crayon stopped.
Lucy rose. “What are you doing here?”
“Picking her up.” George set the bag beside his shoe. “You said I could take her for the weekend.”
“I didn’t.”
His smile slipped, then returned thinner. “Not here, Lucy.”
The nurse glanced between them. The staff member at Chloe’s side stood but didn’t touch her.
George looked at the woman and lifted his hands, all injured reasonableness. “We’re married. I’m her father. This was arranged.”
“No,” Lucy said. “It wasn’t.”
The word came out steady. Inside her, something had begun to pound.
George’s gaze sharpened. “You can’t keep making everything a crisis.”
Lucy moved between him and Chloe. The small table was behind her now; she could hear the paper rustle as Chloe pulled it closer.
“Chloe,” Lucy said, turning enough to see her daughter without stepping aside. “Do you want to go with Daddy?”
George made a disbelieving sound. “Don’t put her in the middle.”
“I’m asking her what she wants.”
Chloe stared down at the picture. Her little fingers tightened around the purple crayon until the paper bent beneath it.
“No,” she whispered.
George’s face changed—not much, but enough. The smile vanished.
“You don’t mean that,” he said. “You’ve been hearing things from your mother.”
Chloe slid off the chair and clutched her worn rabbit to her chest. Lucy hadn’t seen her bring it into the clinic; it must have been tucked in her backpack. She backed into the corner by the table, eyes fixed on George.
“Daddy, no.”
George took a step.
Lucy stepped into his path. “Stop.”
“I’m her father.”
“And she just told you no.”
“I’m trying to see my daughter. You’re making me sound dangerous because you need a story for your friends.”
His voice had risen. The nurse moved toward the doorway and called for the front desk. The staff member crouched beside Chloe, leaving room for her to move but staying close.
George looked past Lucy. “Come on, Chloe. Get your coat.”
Chloe’s breath hitched. Her rabbit’s floppy ear twisted in her fist.
Lucy felt the old reflex to soften the moment for everyone else—to lower her voice, give George a way to retreat without losing face. Then Chloe flinched as he reached around her.
Lucy caught his wrist before his hand could touch their daughter.
“Don’t.”
For one suspended second, George stared at Lucy’s hand on him.
Then he pulled free. “You’re going to regret this.”
Lucy didn’t move.
The door opened again. Dana hurried in, phone still in her hand. She had come as soon as Lucy called, and her eyes went first to Chloe, then to George.
“What happened?”
“He says I agreed to let him take her,” Lucy said. “I didn’t.”
George gave Dana a humorless laugh. “Of course you’d take her side.”
Dana stood beside the nurse. “I’m not here to take sides. I’m here because Chloe is frightened.”
George looked at his daughter. “You’re making her afraid of me.”
Chloe pressed the rabbit over her mouth. No answer came.
A receptionist appeared in the doorway, with another staff member behind her. The nurse spoke quietly to them, then asked George to step into the hall. He refused at first, demanding that Lucy explain herself. The staff stayed in the doorway. Dana kept her attention on Chloe.
At last, George picked up the bag.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
Lucy didn’t answer. She watched him leave with the overnight bag swinging at his side. Only when the receptionist followed him down the hall did she turn to her daughter.
Chloe stayed tucked beside the table.
Lucy crouched a few feet away, careful not to close the distance too quickly. “I’m here.”
Chloe’s face was wet. “I said no.”
“I heard you.”
“You didn’t make me go.”
“No.” Lucy kept her hands open on her knees. “You told me what you wanted, and I listened.”
Chloe watched her as if listening were something that could disappear without warning.
Dana stayed with them until the nurse had finished speaking with the front desk. No one asked Chloe to explain herself. No one told Lucy to calm down. When they finally walked out, Chloe held Lucy’s coat sleeve in one hand and her rabbit in the other.
That night, the house made its familiar small noises: the refrigerator motor, a pipe ticking behind the kitchen wall, the faint creak of a stair under Dana’s careful step. Each sound seemed louder than it had before George came to the clinic.
Dana had gone home after dinner. Lucy checked the front lock, then stood in the hall while Chloe watched her from the stairs.
“Can you do it twice?” Chloe asked.
Lucy looked at the lock. “Twice?”
Chloe nodded.
Lucy turned it, waited, then turned it again. The second click was harder, louder.
Chloe came down holding her rabbit by one ear. “Fiona said Daddy would take me away if Mommy came back.”
The words landed between them, heavier than the lock.
Lucy lowered herself to the bottom step. She wanted to tell Chloe that nobody could take her anywhere, that the door would hold, that she would never let anything bad happen again. Each promise rose up ready on her tongue, and each one stopped there.
“I’m sorry she said that to you,” Lucy said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Chloe looked toward the locked door.
“Are you going away?”
Lucy held out her hand, palm up, and waited until Chloe chose to put her small fingers in it.
May you like
“I’m here tonight,” Lucy said. “And I’ll tell you what I know, even when it’s hard.”
Chloe leaned against her shoulder, but kept her eyes on the door.
