CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 6
Thomas walked toward his mother then.
This time, Rebecca said his name sharply.
He kept walking.
She said it again.
Louder.
He did not stop.
When he reached Eleanor, he gently took the pillow from her arms. His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Eleanor looked at him for a long moment.
A lesser pain might have accepted that apology quickly.
This one could not.
“You watched,” she said.
Thomas began to cry.
“I know.”
“You let her bring me out here.”
“I know.”
“You let me ask you for help.”
His face collapsed.
“And I looked down,” he said.
Rebecca’s voice cut through the yard. “This is ridiculous. Thomas, get inside.”
He turned.
For the first time in years, he looked at his wife without asking permission to breathe.
“No.”
Rebecca stared at him.
The word was small.
But in that house, it was a door opening.
Thomas wiped his face with the heel of his hand.
“My mother is sleeping in her room tonight.”
Rebecca laughed, but it came out thin.
“Your mother? Your mother has been living off me.”
Thomas looked at the dog house.
Then at the blanket.
Then back at Rebecca.
“You made an elderly woman stand outside in the cold to prove you owned a house that isn’t yours.”
Rebecca’s face went white.
Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
“I called Grace from the porch.”
Eleanor turned toward him, startled.
Thomas’s voice shook, but held.
“She heard enough.”
May you like
Rebecca stepped back.
For the first time that night, she looked toward the fence as if wondering who else had heard.
