Page 103 of You Know Why

She collapses into the chair closest to us. “I’m not. You two are tied together, Brook. Through Trey. She feels very close to the kids, and they adore her. Consider her situation for a moment. Her sister was pregnant when she died. She never got to see her niece or nephew, never met them. She’s been afraid to have kids of her own because she feels like it would be a betrayal to her only—dead—sister. So when she meets the kids of her sister’s husband, who’s been missing for years, she gets attached. It’s totally understandable.”

“She’s a complete stranger. She’s creepy. Don’t you see how she looks at us? Like she wants to shove the kids in the fucking oven and eat them.”

“Wow. Listen to yourself. This is the same person you trusted enough to ask for help in Atlanta. Whose home you took your children to. That you’ve allowed to help you in the hospital. What’s changed?”

“I can’t speak to anything that happened before the accident. I don’t remember enough about my actions to trust that it’s right. But she thinks Trey killed her sister, Margot. She believes it. This is twisted and not safe for any of us.” I enunciate the words. She looks abashed, but plows on.

“The kids are innocent in all of this. They love her. She’s been amazing with them. I couldn’t have handled all this without her. Really. So please, could you just try to be a little more easygoing about it all?”

That pushes me right over the edge. The breakdown is swift and complete.

“He’s gone! The love of my life is gone, and you’re shoving the sister of his dead first wife down my throat, and I hate her, and I hate this situation, and I hate you!”

The silence is deafening. Margot bursts into tears and runs down the stairs. I hear Eden calling after her. The door slams. Her car engine sparks to life.

Great job, Brook. Now it’s just you and Aunt Eden.

I haven’t said those awful words to Margot since we were little. I didn’t mean it then, and I certainly don’t mean it now. But they are out there, lingering, like a poisonous fog. I can never take them back. I might as well shoot her through the heart. The one person who has always had my back—and I hers—and I’ve pushed her away just when I need her the most.

It doesn’t change the fact that something about Eden Barrow has me on high alert.

I retreat downstairs to my bedroom. Look at the drawers, the closet, more closely. Eden has rearranged everything. The clothes are hung and sorted according to color and length. Everything in the drawers is neatly folded, not jumbled. The bed’s made differently, the pillows plumped. It’s like Mary Poppins has come through here and redone my entire house. My entire life remade in her image.

What the actual hell is happening here?

I sit on the edge and pull the black wallet out of my pocket.

“Is that Dad’s?”

Four is standing in the doorway. I pat the bed next to me, and he sits. Leans against me.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“I am. We had fun, but I’m really glad you’re home.”

“Tell me about Eden, honey. You two seem to be getting along with her very nicely.”

“She’s great, Mom. She’s not you, though.” His arms steal around my waist, and he clings to me. “When we all got sick she gave us milkshakes, and it made us barf even more. You would have given us JELL-O.”

“Yes, the milk would make it worse. When were you sick?”

“The other day. Remember? We couldn’t come and see you at the hospital. But you got better while we were gone, and now you’re here.”

I hate to tell my son I don’t remember that he didn’t visit. That I don’t recall that he was sick. That I was battling unseen creatures and nightmarish memories in my mind. I am a horrible mother. I swallow back a sob and cover it with a cough.

Four hugs me. “It’s good to have you back.”

I show him the wallet. “Why did you say this was Dad’s?”

“I saw him with it. Before the trip.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a wallet. For his crypto.”

“Precocious son of mine, explain to me how you know what a crypto wallet is?”

“Dad taught me. You load it up with your crypto and password protect it so no one can get in. It’s safer than a bank, so long as you don’t forget the password.”