Apparently, neither had he.
“What agreement?” she asked.
My son’s eyes stayed on mine.
Then he whispered something that made the slap feel like the smallest betrayal of the afternoon.
“You promised she’d never see it.”
Delaney’s face drained.
“Marcus… whose signature did you forge?”
His hand slid off the doorframe.
Mine tightened around the telephone until the edge of its case pressed into my sore cheek.
“Marion?” David said. “Are they still there?”
“Yes.”
“Lock the door. I’m coming over. If you feel threatened, call the police.”
Marcus pushed against the glass before I could close it.
“Mom, please. Let me explain before this becomes something we can’t fix.”
“What did you sign?”
He looked at Delaney.
She stepped away from him.
“What did you sign?” I asked again.
“A release.”
My knees weakened. I put one hand against the wall.
The thirty-five thousand dollars had been a loan. David had insisted we secure it against Birchwood Lane, behind their bank’s mortgage. No monthly payments. No interest. Repayment when they sold.
Marcus had asked me to keep the arrangement between us until he explained it to Delaney.
Apparently, that explanation had never come.
“You signed my name.”
“I was going to pay you back.”
“From what?”
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Ruth appeared at the bottom of the steps, carrying a dish towel with ice folded inside it. Her gardening shoes left wet marks on the boards.
“Move your hand, Marcus.”
He stared at her.
“Your mother is trying to shut her door.”
He moved.
I turned the lock. Ruth came around through the kitchen, where she had let herself in for twenty-three years, and laid the ice against my face.
Only then did I begin to shake.
She took the telephone without making me ask.
“David? It’s Ruth. I’m staying.”
Outside, Delaney’s voice rose. I couldn’t make out every word, only “idiot” and “told you” and then the hard scrape of a suitcase being dragged down the steps.
“Should I have let them stay?” I whispered.
Ruth’s hand stopped against my shoulder.
I heard my own question. Even then, some frightened part of me was trying to make their behavior the result of something I could have prevented.
“No,” she said.
She sat beside me until David arrived.
He photographed my cheek with my permission, then helped me request an officer to take a report. Ruth gave her account separately. Marcus and Delaney had driven away, leaving one suitcase beside the porch rail.
When the officer asked whether I wanted the assault documented, I glanced at the ornaments on the tree.
Marcus at six, grinning from a cardboard wreath.
Marcus at nine, missing two front teeth.
“Yes,” I said.
David waited until the officer left before opening his briefcase.
“The recorded release will tell us what happened with the loan. Tonight, you don’t need to solve everything.”
“What if he loses his job?”
David folded his glasses.
“I can’t promise there won’t be consequences.”
I pressed the melting towel beneath my chin.
For forty-one years, I had known how to help my son through pain. I didn’t know how to stand aside while he walked toward pain he had chosen.
My phone lit up.
A message from Marcus.
Please don’t let David contact the closing company. Give me until morning.
Then another.
She says you’ll destroy all of us.
I put the phone on the table where David could see it.
