Chapter 5 - Elowen Had Tried to Tell Him OnceDashiell did not sleep.
At 3:16 a.m., he sat on the floor of the condo hallway outside Maisy’s room.
He kept replaying memories from eight years earlier.
Elowen pregnant.
Calder suddenly around more often.
Roxanne sending gifts despite barely speaking to Elowen.
A strange argument at the baby shower.
Dashiell had forgotten most details because everything important in his memory centered on Maisy’s arrival.
The rest had blurred.
Now he forced himself to look.
One memory returned clearly.
Maisy was two weeks old.
Dashiell woke around 2:00 a.m.
Elowen stood in the kitchen holding a letter.
She was crying.
“What happened?”
Elowen folded it instantly.
“Nothing.”
“El.”
“I’m tired.”
He hugged her.
She held him so tightly he joked that she was trying to break his ribs.
Then she said something odd.
“If anyone ever tells you something about me, promise you’ll ask me first.”
Dashiell laughed.
“Who’s telling me things about you?”
“Nobody.”
“Then why promise?”
“Just promise.”
“I promise.”
He had kissed her.
Then forgotten the conversation.
Now he remembered the envelope.
Cream-colored.
No stamp.
Hand-delivered.
Could that be the letter Roxanne wanted?
Dashiell called Naomi at 6:30.
She answered sounding completely awake.
“You remembered something.”
“How do you know?”
“You didn’t say hello.”
He explained.
Naomi was silent.
“Could Elowen have kept it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where were her private things?”
“Cedar box.”
“Did Roxanne have access?”
“Yes.”
“Calder?”
“He’s my brother. He has a key.”
Naomi sighed.
“Had.”
Dashiell changed every access code remotely.
At 7:00, Maisy woke.
She found Dashiell making pancakes badly.
“You burn them.”
“Your mother used to say that.”
Maisy smiled.
For the first time since yesterday, she looked like herself.
Then she asked:
“Are we going home?”
Dashiell paused.
“Not today.”
“Is Roxanne there?”
“Maybe.”
Maisy nodded.
No disappointment.
That hurt.
Dashiell brought breakfast to the table.
Maisy poured too much syrup.
He almost corrected her.
Then decided the world could survive extra syrup.
She looked up suddenly.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Is Uncle Calder bad?”
Dashiell froze.
“Why would you ask?”
Maisy shrugged.
“Roxanne said he was a coward.”
“When?”
“A lot.”
Dashiell sat.
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Naomi’s advice echoed.
Do not interrogate.
He changed approach.
“Have you ever felt scared around Uncle Calder?”
Maisy thought.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Then she added:
“He cries sometimes.”
Dashiell stared.
“Calder?”
Maisy nodded.
“At our house?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Before Christmas.”
“What happened?”
“I came downstairs.”
Dashiell forced his voice neutral.
“What did you see?”
“Uncle Calder and Roxanne yelling.”
“About?”
“I don’t remember.”
Maisy ate another bite.
Then:
“He said Mommy’s name.”
Dashiell’s pulse changed.
“What exactly?”
Maisy frowned.
“He said, ‘Elowen would hate you.’”
Dashiell swallowed.
“And Roxanne?”
“She said Mommy was dead.”
The simplicity of the answer chilled him.
Elowen was dead.
Therefore Elowen’s opinion no longer mattered.
Dashiell changed the subject.
After breakfast, he contacted the hospital where Maisy was born.
Birth records.
Routine.
Nothing suspicious.
Dashiell’s name.
Elowen’s name.
DNA had never been relevant.
Why would Calder mention the birth certificate?
Then Naomi asked:
“Was Maisy conceived naturally?”
Dashiell looked at her.
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A necessary one.”
He sat back.
Elowen had experienced difficulty conceiving.
They tried for nearly two years.
Specialists.
Testing.
Then, unexpectedly, Elowen became pregnant during a month when they had stopped actively trying.
Dashiell remembered how happy they were.
He never questioned it.
“You’re thinking Calder is Maisy’s father?”
Naomi asked.
Dashiell stood so fast the chair scraped.
“No.”
“I didn’t say he is.”
“Don’t.”
“Dashiell.”
“My brother did not sleep with my wife.”
Naomi studied him.
“Then prove a different explanation.”
Dashiell wanted to yell.
Instead, he sat.
Elowen loved him.
Calder loved him.
Those facts felt permanent.
Then he remembered the garage argument.
The hand-delivered letter.
Calder helping Roxanne search.
The birth certificate.
His certainty weakened.
Dashiell accessed old photos.
Maisy as a baby.
Calder holding her.
Nothing strange.
Then a photograph from the hospital.
Calder stood near Elowen’s bed.
Everyone smiling.
Dashiell zoomed.
Behind Calder, Roxanne was looking at him.
Not at the baby.
At Calder.
Her expression was severe.
Another memory surfaced.
Roxanne had arrived unexpectedly at the hospital.
Elowen was furious.
Dashiell thought it was postpartum exhaustion.
What if it wasn’t?
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Dashiell?”
An older woman.
“Yes.”
“My name is Dr. Miriam Vale.”
Dashiell frowned.
“I don’t—”
“I treated Elowen years ago.”
His heart stopped.
Fertility specialist.
Dashiell remembered the name.
“How did you get my number?”
“Your wife gave it to me eight years ago.”
“What?”
“She left instructions.”
Dashiell stood.
“What instructions?”
Dr. Vale hesitated.
“She asked me to contact you if anyone ever requested her archived fertility records.”
Dashiell felt cold.
“Someone requested them?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Who?”
“A man claiming to represent the family.”
Dashiell’s hand tightened.
“Name?”
“He identified himself as Calder Holloway.”
Dashiell closed his eyes.
His brother was not only searching for Elowen’s letter.
May you like
He was trying to find medical records from Maisy’s conception.
And Elowen had predicted eight years earlier that someone might.
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