Chapter 2 - The Blue NotebookVanessa did not come downstairs.
Marcus found that revealing.
Normally, if he shouted her name, she would have appeared immediately, offended by his tone.
Now there was silence.
He carried Owen into the kitchen and set him on a chair.
“Stay with me.”
Owen nodded.
Marcus retrieved the notebook.
The first pages were ordinary.
Spelling words.
Cartoon dinosaurs.
A drawing of Marcus with impossibly large arms.
Then the entries changed.
Some were written in Owen’s uneven handwriting.
Others appeared to have been dictated.
Vanessa said Dad is tired because I cause problems.
Marcus stopped breathing.
He turned the page.
Vanessa said if I tell Dad about punishments he might send me away.
Another.
I am supposed to say I fell down when my arm hurts.
Marcus’s stomach tightened.
Another.
I am not allowed to call Dad after 8 because Vanessa says he needs a peaceful life.
He looked at Owen.
“Did you write these?”
Owen nodded.
“My teacher told us writing helps when we feel scared.”
“Who’s your teacher?”
“Mrs. Talbot.”
“Does she know?”
Owen looked away.
“I showed her one page.”
“What happened?”
“She called Vanessa.”
Marcus’s head snapped up.
“Not me?”
Owen shook his head.
“What did Vanessa say after that?”
“That I embarrassed her.”
Marcus closed the notebook.
“Did your teacher call again?”
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa finally appeared.
She descended the stairs slowly.
Her face was carefully controlled.
“Marcus.”
He stood.
“Do not come closer.”
Vanessa stopped.
“What exactly do you think happened?”
“I found my son inside a washing machine.”
“It was off.”
The answer was so quick that Marcus almost could not believe it.
“You think that makes this okay?”
“No, but you’re acting like I put him in a running machine.”
Owen flinched.
Marcus saw it.
Vanessa saw him see it.
Her tone softened.
“Owen has been increasingly defiant.”
Marcus stared at her.
“He’s seven.”
“And seven-year-olds need boundaries.”
“You locked him inside an appliance.”
“I put him there for a few minutes to frighten him into understanding consequences.”
Marcus’s eyes hardened.
“You just said that out loud.”
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“You’re emotional.”
Marcus almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“You came into the middle of a parenting situation you don’t understand.”
“I understand my son was begging to be released.”
Vanessa’s gaze shifted to Owen.
“What did you tell him?”
Owen immediately looked down.
Marcus stepped between them.
“No.”
Vanessa blinked.
“You look at me.”
“I am.”
“No more questions for him.”
Vanessa saw the blue notebook in Marcus’s hand.
For the first time, true panic broke through her composure.
“Where did you get that?”
Marcus noticed.
“Owen’s backpack.”
“That is private.”
“It belongs to Owen.”
“It contains things he misunderstood.”
Marcus opened to a random page.
“‘Vanessa said Dad might send me away.’ What did he misunderstand?”
Her lips tightened.
“I told him continued behavior problems could create serious consequences.”
“For whom?”
“For everyone.”
Marcus stared.
Vanessa lowered her voice.
“You don’t know what he’s been like while you’re working.”
“Then explain.”
“He lies.”
Owen gasped.
“I don’t!”
Vanessa turned toward him.
“You told your teacher I starve you.”
“I said you didn’t let me have dinner!”
“Because you refused what I served.”
Marcus held up a hand.
“Enough.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“You come home after I handle the difficult part and become the hero.”
Marcus felt the accusation land because there was some truth inside it.
He worked too much.
Vanessa handled school pickups, meals, appointments, discipline.
He had trusted her.
That did not excuse anything.
But it explained how much he had failed to see.
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Dr. Patel.”
“For what?”
“I want Owen examined.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
“He isn’t injured.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m his stepmother.”
“You are not his legal parent.”
Vanessa went silent.
Marcus noticed something else.
Not hurt.
Not remorse.
Calculation.
She asked:
“Are you taking him out of the house?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere you are not.”
Vanessa’s face hardened.
“This is my home too.”
“Not tonight.”
“You can’t throw me out.”
“I’m not discussing property while my son is crying.”
“Marcus.”
He turned.
Vanessa looked directly at the notebook.
“You need to understand something before you let a frightened child destroy this marriage.”
Marcus waited.
“He has been writing things about me because someone told him to.”
“Who?”
Vanessa hesitated.
Then said:
“His mother.”
The room became silent.
Marcus’s wife, Rachel, had been dead for four years.
Owen was three when she died.
Marcus’s voice dropped.
“Do not use Rachel.”
“I’m not.”
“You just did.”
Vanessa’s eyes remained fixed on him.
“You should ask Owen where the notebook came from.”
Marcus looked down.
“Owen?”
The boy’s fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.
“Mom gave it to me.”
Marcus’s heart stopped.
“What?”
“Not now.”
Owen shook his head.
“Before.”
“Before she died?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked back at the notebook.
He had assumed it was new.
Then he noticed the first date written inside the cover.
Four years earlier.
Beneath it, in handwriting Marcus knew instantly, were six words.
For Owen. So he remembers himself. — Mom
Marcus stared at Rachel’s writing.
Vanessa took one step backward.
May you like
And Marcus realized the notebook had not frightened her because of what Owen had written recently.
It frightened her because she knew something else was hidden inside it.
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