Chapter 12 - Bunny and Mommy Back on the Candlelit Table
I remember how Daddy carried me that night because he did not put me down once. He lifted me off the laundry room floor with Bunny tucked under his chin and Mommy's picture flat against his palm so it would not bend, and then he shifted me up onto his hip. I was three and too big to be carried like that for long, but I locked my legs around him and pressed my face into the front of his black shirt. It smelled like detergent and sweat. His rolled sleeve was damp where he had reached into the washer. His silver watch clicked cold against my bare knee.
He did not speak on the way back. I could hear his breathing in his chest and the soft slap of his shoes on the hardwood. Bunny hung from his other hand by one ear. Water darkened the fur at the bottom and dripped down his wrist. He held Mommy's picture carefully, like it mattered more than keeping his shirt dry. I kept my eyes on it. The glass over her smile was fogged at the corner but she was there. She was really there.
The dining room looked different when we came back to it. The chandelier was still on, but lower somehow, and two of the candles had burned down short. The flames leaned when the air moved as Daddy walked in. The white flowers in the center looked gray at the edges. My bowl of pasta was still at my place on the gold charger, the white bowl gone cold, my little gold spoon lying across it where I had left it. My cut-crystal water glass was sweating a ring onto the dark wood.
Veronica was still at the table. She had not cleared anything. She sat straight with her hands in her lap, her dark hair still pinned up, her burgundy dress catching the candlelight on the thin straps. Her diamond necklace moved once when she breathed in and saw us. Her drop earrings swung a little. She looked at Daddy first, then at what he was holding, and her mouth tightened.
Daddy did not sit down. He walked past her chair to my side of the table and eased me down onto my chair. His tattoos stood out dark against his skin under the light, the ones up his neck and down his forearms. He kept one hand on my back while I settled my white lace dress around my legs. My bow had slipped. He fixed it without looking, the way he always did.
Then he reached past the candles and set both things down in the open space between us. First Mommy's picture, face up, where the candlelight could hit it. Then Bunny next to it, laid on its side so the wet spot showed. The dark wood was polished and I could see the reflection of the flames under them. A drop of water from Bunny's foot spread out and darkened the wood. Daddy left his hand there for a second, flat beside them, and then he pulled it back.
I stared at Bunny and did not touch him yet because Daddy had not told me I could. My stomach felt tight. I could hear the candles hissing a little and the house settling somewhere upstairs.
Daddy looked at Veronica. I watched his jaw work. He was not yelling. His voice was low and tired when he finally spoke.
"We looked where you said they were not," he said. He nodded at the table. "They were in the laundry. Explain that to her. Not to me."
Veronica glanced down at the picture and Bunny and then back up at him. She gave a short breath that was almost a laugh. "Honey, I already told you —"
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He cut her off without raising his voice. He put his hand lightly on my shoulder. "No. You told me. Now tell her."
The room went very quiet. The candle nearest Bunny flickered and threw a shadow across Mommy's face and then off it again. I felt Daddy's thumb move once against my dress. Veronica's eyes shifted to me. She held her cold stare for a second longer, but there was nowhere else to look. The evidence was right there between the gold chargers and the crystal, and I was watching her.
