Chapter 2 - The Locked Bedroom
Clare was in Emma’s room when Thomas got home.
That alone told him the conversation would be difficult.
For months after their daughter died, neither of them entered without a reason. Clare eventually turned part of the room into storage, but the little wooden bookshelf remained. So did the faded rabbit cup on the desk.
Thomas stood in the doorway.
Clare did not turn.
“You were at St. Michael’s.”
He frowned.
“How did you know?”
“Your assistant called because you missed the six o’clock board call.”
“I forgot.”
“You never forget board calls.”
She finally looked at him.
“What happened?”
Thomas removed his jacket.
“There’s a little girl.”
Clare’s face changed instantly.
“No.”
“Clare.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“Yes, I do.”
He hated that she did.
He sat on the edge of Emma’s old bed.
“I met her accidentally.”
“Children are not accidents.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
Clare folded a blanket.
“You’ve been grieving for a year and suddenly you see a four year old…”
“She’s not Emma.”
“Then why four?”
The question hurt.
“She happens to be four.”
“And you happen to be ready now?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“Because she asked me to choose someone else.”
Clare stopped.
Thomas told her.
The wheelchair.
The returned placements.
The surgeries.
The promise not to disappear.
He did not dramatize.
He did not mention the envelope.
Not yet.
When he finished, Clare sat down.
For almost a minute, she said nothing.
Then:
“What does she have?”
“Spina bifida.”
“Can she walk?”
“Limited assisted movement, according to Mrs. Dupont. Mostly wheelchair.”
“Surgeries?”
“Probably more.”
“Daily care?”
“Yes.”
Clare laughed bitterly.
“You went to inspect a building and came home wanting to become a medical foster parent.”
“I said begin adoption process.”
“That is not smaller.”
“I know.”
She looked around Emma’s room.
“You think saving another child will save you.”
Thomas flinched.
“Maybe.”
The honesty surprised them both.
He continued:
“But maybe that doesn’t automatically mean it’s wrong.”
Clare’s eyes filled.
“I can’t lose another child.”
There.
The actual fear.
Thomas moved closer.
“Neither can I.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I buried her too.”
“I know!”
The shout echoed.
Then Clare immediately covered her mouth.
They rarely shouted anymore.
That was what grief had done.
It made silence safer.
“I know,” she whispered.
Thomas said:
“Nothing guarantees safety.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“No.”
“What happens if Elise has surgery and something goes wrong?”
“We deal with what happens.”
“I can’t.”
“Okay.”
Clare looked at him sharply.
“What?”
“I’m not going to force you.”
“Then stop the process.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She stood.
“You cannot adopt while married to someone who says no.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m going back tomorrow.”
Clare stared at him.
“To visit?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer made her angrier than certainty.
“You’re going to fall in love with her until I become the person stopping you.”
Thomas looked down.
Maybe.
That frightened him.
The next morning, he returned to St. Michael’s.
Not in the blue suit.
Jeans.
Sweater.
Elise noticed immediately.
“No billionaire clothes?”
“Day off.”
“You look less expensive.”
“Thank you.”
She was doing a puzzle at a low table.
Thomas sat opposite.
“Can I help?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
He watched.
The puzzle was a lighthouse.
Elise found corners first.
Emma used to do the same.
He had to look away.
Elise noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the sad face.”
“What sad face?”
“The one adults do when they think kids don’t notice.”
Thomas exhaled.
“My daughter liked puzzles.”
“Where is she?”
“She died.”
Elise stopped moving.
“Oh.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“My mom died too.”
Thomas looked up.
“I’m sorry.”
“She was sick.”
“How old were you?”
“Little.”
She was still little.
He almost said it.
Didn’t.
“Do you remember her?”
“Her song.”
“What song?”
Elise shook her head.
“Mine.”
Boundary.
Thomas accepted.
Mrs. Dupont appeared with a cup of coffee.
“You returned.”
“I said I would.”
Elise muttered:
“People say lots.”
Thomas heard.
He stayed three hours.
He did not ask about adoption.
He helped build the lighthouse puzzle badly enough that Elise accused him of “architect fraud.”
Mrs. Dupont laughed.
“How does she know what you do?”
“Internet,” Elise said.
Thomas stared.
Mrs. Dupont sighed.
“She asked Ada.”
On his third visit, Nurse Ada showed him how Elise transferred from wheelchair to therapy mat.
Elise hated being helped unnecessarily.
“Hands off.”
Thomas immediately stepped back.
Ada nodded approvingly.
“She will tell you.”
“Good.”
On the fourth visit, Elise asked:
“Did your wife say no?”
Thomas froze.
Mrs. Dupont had told her nothing.
“How do you know?”
“You keep coming alone.”
He sat.
“She’s scared.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because we lost our daughter.”
Elise considered.
“Does she think I’ll die?”
Thomas’s chest tightened.
“Maybe she thinks everyone can.”
Elise looked down at Bear.
“Everybody can.”
Four years old.
Too much truth.
That evening, Clare surprised him.
“Take me.”
He looked up from dinner.
“Where?”
“The orphanage.”
“Why?”
“I want to see who I’m saying no to.”
Thomas did not smile.
He knew better.
The next morning, Clare entered St. Michael’s courtyard.
Elise was waiting beneath the maple tree.
She looked at Thomas.
Then Clare.
Then back.
“This is your wife?”
“Yes.”
Elise stared at Clare’s coat.
“You look expensive too.”
Clare laughed.
The first real laugh Thomas had heard from her in months.
“Apparently that’s a family problem.”
Elise did not smile.
She asked:
“Are you the no?”
Clare’s laughter disappeared.
Thomas held his breath.
Clare slowly knelt.
“I’m the scared.”
Elise studied her.
Then said:
“That’s worse.”
Thomas almost intervened.
Clare lifted one hand.
No.
Let her.
“You might be right,” Clare said.
Elise returned to her puzzle.
But she did not turn her wheelchair away.
That afternoon, as Thomas and Clare prepared to leave, Mrs. Dupont stopped them.
“You’re both still willing to begin a formal home study?”
Clare looked at Thomas.
Then at Elise.
“Begin.”
Not promise.
Begin.
Mrs. Dupont nodded.
Then unlocked the filing cabinet.
The yellow envelope came out again.
She placed it on the desk.
“You haven’t earned this yet.”
Thomas frowned.
“When?”
“When a licensed placement team tells me you are moving forward for Elise herself.”
Clare looked at the handwriting.
“What is it?”
May you like
Mrs. Dupont answered:
“The reason Elise’s mother was terrified someone might choose her for the wrong reason.”
