Chapter 3 - The Birthday Present
Lily didn't ask for her mother on the drive home from the hospital.
She asked for Clara.
Graham heard it three times.
The first time, he assumed his daughter was confused.
The second time, he pretended not to understand.
The third time, he felt an uncomfortable pressure beneath his ribs.
“Cawa,” Lily whispered from her car seat.
Graham glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
“Clara's not coming tonight, sweetheart.”
Lily's face crumpled.
Vivienne sat beside her.
“Don't start, darling. You've had enough excitement.”
Lily turned away.
Graham noticed.
His daughter had always been shy around strangers, but she rarely withdrew from her mother so completely.
He told himself she was exhausted.
The emergency physician had found no evidence of significant injury or breathing complications during the evaluation, but had provided careful instructions about symptoms requiring immediate medical attention.
Physically, Lily appeared fortunate.
Emotionally, she was inconsolable.
When they reached home, Vivienne went upstairs to change.
Graham carried Lily into her bedroom.
The child's soaked party dress had been replaced with soft pajamas.
Her strawberry-blonde hair was still slightly damp.
He placed her favorite stuffed rabbit beside her.
“There you go, bug.”
Lily pushed the rabbit away.
“Cawa.”
Graham closed his eyes.
“Sweetheart…”
She began crying again.
He lifted her onto his lap.
“Daddy's here.”
Lily pressed her cheek against his shirt.
For several minutes, he rocked her.
Then she looked up.
“Mama.”
He smiled faintly.
“Yeah. Mommy's upstairs.”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
Graham frowned.
“What do you mean?”
She made a small pushing movement with her hands.
“Mama. No.”
He stared.
Lily wasn't old enough to describe a complicated event.
Her sentences were usually two or three words, sometimes less.
She could be referring to anything.
He knew that.
But he couldn't stop thinking about the movement.
“Did Mommy do something?”
Lily looked toward the bedroom door.
Then she buried her face in his chest.
Graham felt something cold move through him.
At dinner, he asked Vivienne a question.
“Where exactly were you when Lily fell?”
She looked up from her plate.
“At the pool.”
“I know. Where?”
“In my chair.”
“Beside her?”
“More or less.”
Graham set down his fork.
“Vivienne.”
She sighed.
“Oh, for heaven's sake. What?”
“I'm trying to understand what happened.”
“Your maid was supposed to be supervising her.”
“Clara was setting up refreshments.”
“Then she wasn't supervising her, was she?”
Graham stared.
Vivienne took a sip of water.
“I don't know why you're looking at me like that.”
“Did you see Lily fall?”
She hesitated.
“Not clearly.”
“You told Oliver you turned around and saw her in the water.”
“Because that's what happened.”
Graham looked down.
He wanted to believe her.
He desperately wanted to believe her.
The alternative was too monstrous to consider.
Vivienne leaned forward.
“Graham, you're exhausted. You watched our daughter nearly drown. Of course you're upset.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Clara says she rescued Lily.”
Vivienne gave a quiet laugh.
“Clara would say anything to protect her job.”
Graham looked at her.
“She's worked here for three years.”
“And that makes her infallible?”
“No.”
“Then stop acting as though I'm on trial because the help made a mistake.”
The word help bothered him.
Clara had a name.
She had cared for his daughter through fevers, sleepless nights, and the difficult months after Graham's business travel increased.
But he'd slapped her.
And ordered her away.
He had already committed himself to one version of events before asking a single question.
Vivienne stood.
“I'm going to check on Lily.”
Graham caught her wrist lightly.
“Wait.”
She looked offended.
“What?”
“Did Lily give you something today?”
Vivienne frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“A present. I thought I saw a little box on the deck.”
“Oh, that.”
She withdrew her wrist.
“Probably something Clara helped her make.”
“Did you open it?”
“No. The entire afternoon became a disaster.”
Graham stared at her.
Lily had been planning the gift for days.
He remembered her trying to hide purple paint on her fingers.
Clara had told him not to spoil the surprise.
He'd laughed.
Now he couldn't remember seeing the gift after the accident.
Vivienne moved toward the stairs.
“Honestly, Graham, can we focus on the fact that our daughter is alive?”
He watched her leave.
He wanted to agree.
But the more he replayed the afternoon, the less the pieces seemed to fit.
Clara had been kneeling beside Lily.
Supporting her.
Her gray uniform was soaked.
If she had pushed Lily, why had she gone into the water to pull her out?
He remembered the expression on Clara's face after he struck her.
Not guilt.
Not fear of being caught.
Disbelief.
A kind of devastation he'd never seen before.
Graham looked down at his right hand.
For the first time, he felt ashamed of it.
Across town, Clara sat in her mother's kitchen.
Her cheek was swollen.
Her mother, June Bennett, had been a school cafeteria supervisor for twenty-seven years and possessed a temperament that could make grown men apologize for things they hadn't done.
She was furious.
“He hit you?”
Clara nodded.
“And then sent some man to tell you you're suspended?”
“Yes.”
June stood.
“Give me my car keys.”
“Mom.”
“No, I'm serious.”
“Mom, please.”
June stopped.
Clara's face was wet with tears.
“I don't want another scene. Lily's already frightened enough.”
June sat slowly.
Then she took her daughter's hand.
“What do you want?”
Clara looked at the pale gift box on the table.
The lavender ribbon lay beside it.
“I want him to know I didn't hurt her.”
June squeezed her fingers.
“Then we're going to make sure somebody listens.”
Clara looked at the butterfly drawing inside the box.
She remembered Lily's delighted face as she pressed purple paint onto paper.
The little girl had wanted to make her mother smile.
Instead, she'd ended up crying beside a swimming pool.
May you like
Clara covered her mouth.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that the afternoon hadn't been an accident at all.
