Chapter 5 - Both Parents Had Asked Mara To Disappear
Katherine arrived forty minutes later.
Noah sat between his parents at a booth while I went back to work.
I tried to.
Table Seven wanted a second bottle of sparkling water.
Table Four needed a check.
A woman near the window complained her salmon was too pink.
Normal restaurant emergencies.
I handled all of them while watching the Hayes family through the reflection in the glass.
At some point, being good at service becomes being good at behaving as if another room is not on fire.
Katherine was thirty-seven.
Short blond hair.
No resemblance to the woman I'd seen in the reflection.
She and Daniel barely looked at each other.
Noah did most of the looking for them.
After my section quieted, Katherine came to the service station.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
“I'm sorry.”
“For?”
She glanced toward my badge.
“Whatever Mara did with your uniform.”
“If it was Mara.”
Katherine nodded.
“Right.”
“Don't apologize for her.”
She looked surprised.
“Habit.”
Apparently.
I handed a server two coffees.
Katherine waited.
Then:
“Daniel thinks I'm rewriting history.”
“Are you?”
She almost smiled.
“Probably some.”
That made me like her more than I expected.
She continued:
“Mara was furious after the pickup incident.”
“Understandable.”
“She was furious with Daniel for calling police.”
“Also understandable.”
“And with me for letting him think she acted alone.”
“Yes.”
Katherine looked toward Noah.
“I asked her to leave town because every time I saw her, I had to remember what I had asked her to help me do.”
That was ugly enough to sound true.
“What happened?”
“Mara said no.”
“Then?”
“She came to my apartment.”
“You had moved?”
“For three weeks.”
This family apparently had an entire geography nobody agreed on.
Katherine continued:
“She said she wanted to speak to Daniel.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I told her Daniel would use anything she said against me.”
“That was true?”
Katherine thought.
“I believed it.”
Not the same.
Good.
“And Mara?”
“She said I was using her fear to keep lying.”
“Was she right?”
“Yes.”
Katherine said it immediately.
Then:
“She still left.”
“Because you asked?”
“Partly.”
“What was the other part?”
Katherine looked toward Daniel.
“He told her she wasn't his sister anymore.”
I felt something shift.
“Exact words?”
“She told me he said, ‘You picked my wife over me. Don't call yourself my sister again.’”
Daniel had not mentioned that.
Maybe because he remembered it differently.
Maybe because he remembered it exactly.
“Did Mara ever contact you after?”
“Yes.”
“How often?”
Katherine took a long time.
“Every year.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“Not much.”
Katherine rubbed the edge of the service counter.
“Birthday. Christmas. Usually one email asking if Noah was healthy.”
“Did you answer?”
“Some years.”
“Did Daniel know?”
“No.”
“How did Mara get your email?”
“She already had it.”
“Did she ask to meet Noah?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Katherine looked ashamed.
“Because Daniel and I had finally gotten our co-parenting stable.”
“You were afraid Mara would destabilize it.”
“Yes.”
“That was your decision.”
“Yes.”
She didn't hide behind Daniel.
Good.
Then I asked:
“Why contact her two months ago?”
“She contacted me.”
“Right.”
“What changed?”
“Noah.”
I looked toward him.
“He had a family-tree assignment.”
Of course.
“He asked whether Daniel had brothers or sisters.”
“What did you say?”
“That he should ask his dad.”
“What did Daniel say?”
Katherine glanced toward him.
“No.”
One syllable.
A whole person removed.
“Mara somehow found out.”
“How?”
“I told my mother.”
“Your mother knows Mara?”
“They were close.”
Family information does not disappear.
It just changes routes.
Katherine continued:
“Mara emailed me and asked if Noah knew her name.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
Katherine's mouth tightened.
“That I was doing it again.”
I could hear the line without knowing Mara.
Katherine said:
“I told her not to contact Noah without both parents agreeing.”
“Reasonable.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I asked Daniel.”
This was new.
“What did he say?”
Katherine looked toward him.
“No.”
“Did he know you were asking because Mara had contacted you?”
“Yes.”
So Daniel had known two months ago that his sister was not simply a dead chapter.
He had declined contact.
His right as a parent, perhaps.
But not the same as never being given a choice.
“What did Mara do?”
Katherine shook her head.
“Nothing that I knew about.”
Until three Saturdays at Bell & Finch.
I looked toward Noah.
He had drawn a circle in spilled condensation on the table.
“Did you tell Mara where Daniel brings Noah for lunch?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Katherine frowned.
“No one.”
Then Daniel appeared beside us.
“I did.”
We both turned.
“What?”
He looked at Katherine.
“You didn't.”
She stared.
Daniel continued:
“Four years ago.”
Katherine's expression changed.
Daniel looked at me.
“I called Mara.”
Noah was too far away to hear.
Good.
Katherine whispered:
“You told me you never spoke after the pickup.”
“I lied.”
There it was.
Another version broke.
Daniel looked toward his son.
“Four years ago, Noah stopped sleeping after Katherine moved.”
Katherine had taken a job across the state for six months.
Noah was four.
Daniel had been overwhelmed.
He called the one person who had soothed Noah as a baby better than anyone.
Mara.
“What did you ask?” Katherine said.
“How to get him to sleep.”
Her face changed.
“And?”
“She told me.”
“Did you let her talk to him?”
“No.”
Daniel stared at the floor.
“I told her not to ask.”
Katherine looked at him.
“So you used her.”
Daniel flinched.
“I called my sister.”
“You had just spent three years saying she wasn't your sister.”
He had no answer.
Then Daniel added:
“I told her Noah liked Bell & Finch.”
My pulse changed.
“When?”
“On that call.”
“Why?”
“She asked if he still remembered the restaurant.”
“And you said?”
“That I still brought him sometimes.”
Four years ago.
Mara had carried that information for four years.
Not enough to know their current reservation.
But enough to know where a door might still exist.
Then Helen rushed out from the kitchen.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“The back service door just opened.”
My stomach dropped.
“With my code?”
“No.”
She looked toward the corridor.
“An old management override.”
Luis came behind her.
He looked pale.
“Mara used to have one.”
Daniel turned toward the glass.
A shadow moved at the far end.
Not reflection this time.
Someone was actually standing behind the kitchen door.
Watching us.
May you like
Then the figure stepped back.
Gone.
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