Chapter 11 - Ethan Had Put The Rabbit In The Donation Box
Jason apologized for the rabbit before Ethan did.
I stopped him.
“We're not making Ethan responsible for this.”
Jason nodded.
Then called his son into the kitchen.
Ethan arrived holding a game controller.
“What?”
“Rabbit,” Jason said.
Ethan looked worried.
“I didn't know Grandma wanted it.”
I leaned against the counter.
“Why did you put it in the donation box?”
“It was in the attic.”
“Okay.”
“I thought Lily didn't play with it.”
Reasonable.
“Did Grandma tell you not to?”
“No.”
“So you did nothing strange.”
He looked relieved.
Then:
“But after Dad took the box, Grandma started asking where Bunny was.”
“Why didn't you tell her?”
Ethan looked at Margaret, who had come into the hallway.
“She was being weird.”
Jason almost smiled.
Margaret did not.
I asked:
“What did she ask you to do?”
“Look in closets.”
“Anything else?”
“Trash bags.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
Margaret interrupted.
“That's enough.”
I turned.
“No. He gets to finish his own answer.”
Her face tightened.
Then she nodded.
Ethan continued:
“She asked if I remembered what shop Dad took the box to.”
“So you told her Miles.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“She called him.”
Good.
Simple chain.
No one had been surveilling anyone.
No one staged Lily receiving the rabbit.
A ten-year-old donated an old toy.
Miles recognized it.
Margaret panicked.
Family mystery often looked more sophisticated from inside than from above.
Jason sent Ethan back to his game.
Then turned to Margaret.
“You asked him to search the house without telling him why.”
“Yes.”
“Don't again.”
She bristled.
“He lives here half the week.”
“That's not permission.”
Her mouth closed.
I watched.
Jason continued:
“If you need something from my son, ask me first.”
“What if you're not available?”
“Then wait.”
She almost laughed in disbelief.
Waiting.
The Carter family’s least developed skill.
Margaret looked at me.
“And you?”
“What?”
“You're going to set rules too.”
“Yes.”
Her face hardened.
“Fine.”
Not fine.
Good enough.
“Lily will not be alone with you for now.”
Jason looked away.
Margaret stopped breathing for a second.
“For what?”
“Visits.”
“You think I would hurt her?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because you frightened her to get an object.”
“I never touched her.”
“You keep using that.”
Margaret's face flushed.
“I smashed a toy into a cake.”
“Yes.”
“I was panicking.”
“Yes.”
“I apologized.”
“Yes.”
“What else do you want?”
There it was.
The old transaction.
Admission should produce restoration.
I shook my head.
“Nothing today.”
Her face changed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means an apology does not purchase the old arrangement.”
She looked toward the living room where Lily and Ethan were playing.
“I’m her grandmother.”
“Yes.”
“That means something.”
“Yes.”
She waited.
I didn't finish for her.
Margaret looked back.
“What?”
“It doesn't mean automatic access.”
She sat down.
Not dramatically.
As if her knees had finally admitted the week was real.
Jason leaned against the refrigerator.
For once, neither of us rescued her from feeling something.
After a minute Margaret said:
“Do you want me to leave the house?”
Jason frowned.
Rachel? Wait—I was Rachel.
I answered.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“I don't own your house.”
“You think I do.”
“No.”
“That was Nathan's argument.”
“Yes.”
I took a breath.
“I’m not trying to reverse-control you.”
Her eyes filled.
“Then what are you doing?”
“Making one decision at a time.”
Margaret looked toward the floor.
“Can I come to Lily's school concert Friday?”
I thought.
“Yes.”
“Sit with you?”
“No.”
That hurt.
She nodded.
“Okay.”
Specific.
Manageable.
Then Jason said:
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
“Did you ever tell Nathan you were sorry before he died?”
The question came from nowhere.
Margaret froze.
“No.”
Jason looked away.
She continued:
“He didn't either.”
I almost corrected her.
Then stopped.
May you like
Maybe that conversation belonged to the two of them, even with one dead.
Not every truth needed me as referee.
