Chapter 14 - The Housekeeper Who Stayed
The curtain never left my hands until Daniel touched my wrist and told me I could let go.
We were still by the window. My legs had gone numb from the sill and my fingers were cramped around the fabric. Downstairs a clock ticked loud through the vents. The daylight had shifted a little, thinner now against the cream wall, catching the dust on the molding.
Daniel didn't pick up the scissors again. They lay on the rug where he'd set them down, blades closed, black handles facing the wall. He crouched beside them and pulled his phone from his back pocket.
"Don't move them yet," he said to no one in particular. His voice was hoarse.
His mother stood three feet back with her arms crossed. "This is ridiculous," she said.
Daniel ignored her. He took a photo of the scissors first, then a wider one that showed the scissors, the hem of the curtain, and my bare feet still on the sill. He moved slow, the way I'd seen cops do on TV, getting the angle from above and then from the side.
"Why are you photographing the floor?" his mother said.
"Because this happened," Daniel said. He stood and photographed the frayed spot on the curtain where the blade had pressed. He zoomed in. The shutter sound clicked twice. "Date and time are on it."
The housekeeper was still kneeling. Her knees must have hurt. Her bun had loosened and gray strands stuck to her neck. She kept one hand on the lower curtain like she didn't trust it to stay up by itself.
Daniel turned to her. "Mrs. Hale, I need you to say it again while I'm recording. What you said about Dad."
She looked at me first. I nodded, though my throat was tight.
She cleared her throat. "Your father changed the will," she said, louder this time. "Two months ago. He told me himself in the study. He said the baby was to inherit equal. He signed papers. He put a copy in the blue envelope."
"Where?" Daniel asked.
"In my room," she said. "Behind the dresser drawer. Taped underneath."
His mother gave a short laugh. "And you believe her?"
Daniel hit stop on his phone and slipped it back in his pocket. Then he did something I didn't expect. He picked up the scissors by the very tip of one handle, using two fingers, and carried them to the small side table by the framed art. He opened the drawer, set them inside, and locked it. He pulled the little brass key out and put it in his front pocket.
"They stay there," he said. "Nobody touches them."
My vision blurred for a second. I swayed. The housekeeper saw it before Daniel did.
"Honey, sit," she said, and she was up off her knees despite the pain, reaching for me. "Daniel, get her down."
He was there in one step. He put one arm around my back and the other under my knees and lifted me off the sill like I weighed nothing. My dress caught on the latch. He freed it gently. The air felt too cold once my feet hit the carpet.
He lowered me onto the small settee under the window. The fabric was rough against my legs. I gripped the armrest.
"Are you cramping?" he asked.
I tried to be honest. "My stomach feels tight. Like it comes and goes."
He glanced at the housekeeper. "How far apart?"
"I don't know," I said. "I wasn't counting. I was trying not to fall."
The housekeeper knelt in front of me, her uniform skirt pooling on the rug. She put her warm hand on my knee. "Look at me, sweetheart. Is there any sharp pain? Any fluid?"
"No," I said. "Just tight."
"Any bleeding?" she asked quietly.
I shook my head. Then I wasn't sure. "I don't think so."
"We need to check," she said, practical and calm. "Daniel, get me a towel from the bathroom and some water. And call for help."
His mother stepped forward. "You are not calling the sheriff into my house over a family argument."
Daniel stared at her. "Mom. Stop."
"It's my house," she said.
"It's Dad's house," he said. "And my wife may be in labor on your rug."
That shut her up. He walked to the hall bathroom and came back with a folded white towel and a glass of water. He handed them to Mrs. Hale without looking at his mother.
The housekeeper helped me sip. Her hand shook a little. She laid the towel across my lap for privacy and asked me to shift just enough so she could see. I felt heat climb up my neck, but I did what she said. Daniel turned his back and faced the window, his shoulders rigid.
"No bleeding," Mrs. Hale said after a moment, relief breaking through. "Thank God. No bleeding I can see."
My belly tightened again while she was speaking. I breathed through it, counting to ten the way the nurse had shown me. It eased.
"That was about six minutes since the last one," Mrs. Hale said. "Could be stress. Could be Braxton Hicks. We don't guess with this. She needs the clinic."
Daniel turned around. "I'm calling Dr. Patel's line, then the county sheriff non-emergency. I want this on record before anyone moves anything else."
His mother said, "Daniel—"
He cut her off. "Mrs. Hale, will you give a statement? To the sheriff. About what you heard Dad say and what you saw today."
She didn't hesitate. She tucked the towel tighter around my legs. "Yes. I'll tell them exactly what I saw. You holding the scissors. Her on that sill. Your mother telling you to let her fall."
His mother went pale. "You would lie for her?"
"I've worked in this house thirty-one years," Mrs. Hale said. "I don't lie."
Daniel dialed. His voice dropped low as he walked toward the door, phone to his ear. I heard pieces. Upper-floor window. Pregnant female. Need medical check. Need deputy for witness statements. Yes, we're securing the room.
When he hung up, he came back and sat on the edge of the settee beside me. He didn't touch my stomach without asking. He just put his hand over mine.
May you like
"Help's coming," he said. "Nobody leaves until they get here."
Outside, far off on the county road, I thought I heard a siren start thin and distant. Mrs. Hale sat on the floor beside me and didn't move away.
