Chapter 2 - The Explanation That Fell Apart Too Quickly
Grant carried Madison upstairs while Lauren remained in the living room.
He didn’t tell himself the slap had been justified.
It hadn’t.
The instant he saw Madison flinch at the sound, he regretted it.
He had walked into something frightening and answered it with another frightening thing.
That realization stayed with him as he sat Madison on the edge of her bed and wiped her face with a cool washcloth.
“Daddy’s not leaving,” he said.
Madison watched the bedroom door.
“Is Mommy Lauren mad?”
Grant hated the question.
“She’s downstairs.”
“Is Aunt Claire staying?”
“No.”
Madison relaxed slightly.
That told him more than he wanted to know.
Downstairs, Claire had already grabbed her purse.
Grant found her in the foyer.
“You’re not going anywhere yet.”
Claire stopped.
Lauren stood near the fireplace with one hand against her cheek.
“You don’t get to order my sister around after hitting me,” she said.
“You’re right about me hitting you.”
Lauren seemed surprised by the answer.
Grant continued.
“I shouldn’t have done it. If you want to report it, I’ll tell them exactly what happened.”
Claire looked toward Lauren.
Lauren’s expression changed.
She had expected Grant to defend himself.
Instead, he pointed toward the closet.
“Now open that.”
Lauren folded her arms.
“It’s a closet.”
“Open it.”
Claire finally spoke.
“Grant, Madison exaggerates.”
He looked at her.
“She’s three.”
“She hates quiet time.”
“That isn’t what she said.”
Lauren opened the closet.
Coats hung along one side. The vacuum sat at the back. A folding step stool leaned against the wall.
Nothing immediately looked unusual.
Grant almost felt foolish.
Then he noticed the small plastic cup on the floor.
Pink.
Madison’s.
Beside it was one of her yellow socks.
Grant picked it up.
Lauren said, “She plays in here sometimes.”
Grant looked at the inside of the door.
A childproof knob cover had been installed on the interior knob.
He had never seen one mounted that way.
He touched it.
The plastic cover spun uselessly around the knob when turned by small hands.
Grant looked at Lauren.
“Why is this inside?”
Lauren answered too quickly.
“So she can’t wander out during quiet time.”
Grant’s voice dropped.
“You just told me she plays in here.”
Lauren didn’t answer.
Claire stepped toward the door.
“She was having behavioral problems.”
“What problems?”
“Meltdowns. Screaming. Separation stuff.”
“At preschool?”
Claire looked at Lauren again.
That second glance was slower than the first.
Grant noticed it.
Lauren stepped between them.
“Madison has been difficult for months. I didn’t tell you because every time I mention anything about her, you act like I’m attacking your daughter.”
Grant almost responded.
Then something else caught him.
“At preschool?”
Lauren said nothing.
Grant repeated it.
“Has her teacher said she’s having behavioral problems?”
Lauren’s jaw tightened.
“We’ve discussed it.”
“With who?”
“Her school.”
“Which teacher?”
“Grant, this is ridiculous.”
He pulled out his phone.
Lauren moved immediately.
Not toward him.
Toward the phone.
“Don’t call them right now.”
That reaction stopped him.
Grant had expected anger.
He had expected excuses.
He had not expected fear.
He looked at the screen, then back at his wife.
“Why not?”
Lauren said, “Because it’s after hours.”
It was 4:47 p.m.
Little Oaks Preschool closed at six.
Grant knew because he had paid the enrollment deposit himself.
He tapped the school’s number.
Lauren grabbed her purse from the chair.
“I’m not doing this with you.”
Grant watched her walk toward the stairs.
Then he heard a tiny voice behind him.
Madison had come halfway down.
“Daddy?”
He went to her.
She whispered, “I don’t go to school anymore.”
Grant stopped dialing.
Lauren stopped walking.
Grant looked up at her.
“What did she just say?”
Lauren didn’t answer.
Madison held the banister.
“Mommy Lauren said school doesn’t want me.”
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Grant stared at his wife.
For the first time since coming home, the closet was no longer the only thing he needed explained.
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