Chapter 11 - THE HOUSE NORAH REFUSED TO ENTER
Norah recovered slowly.
Arthur recovered badly.
He tried to solve everything.
Private nurses.
Security.
A nutritionist.
Two physical therapists.
A new apartment closer to the hospital.
Norah rejected nearly all of it.
“No.”
Arthur stared at her.
“You need help.”
“I need some help.”
“That is what I arranged.”
“You arranged a medical occupation.”
“There are six people.”
“Exactly.”
Henry watched them argue from the sofa while eating apple slices.
“I like when Norah wins,” he said.
Arthur gave him a look.
Norah smiled.
Eventually they negotiated.
One nurse.
Physical therapy three times a week.
Arthur paid medical bills.
Norah accepted because Maya needed anti-rejection drugs and because Arthur finally stopped calling it charity.
“It’s restitution,” he said.
“For your family’s crimes?”
“Yes.”
That she could accept.
She refused to move into the Cole estate.
Arthur tried not to show how much that bothered him.
“You worked there for two years.”
“As Henry’s nanny.”
“You still are.”
“No.”
Arthur stopped.
Norah’s voice softened.
“I can’t go back as an employee.”
He understood.
Too much had changed.
Her mother.
Catherine.
Richard.
The hospital hallway.
The way Arthur looked at her now.
“What do you want?”
She thought about it.
“A life that doesn’t depend on you.”
That hurt.
He nodded anyway.
Norah used part of the restitution fund to rent a small apartment near Maya’s transplant clinic.
She enrolled in evening nursing courses.
Something she had postponed for years.
Arthur helped with nothing unless she asked.
That was harder for him than gunfights.
Henry visited every Saturday.
Technically, Arthur brought him.
At first, Arthur waited in the car.
Then Henry began forgetting things.
A sweater.
A book.
A train.
Eventually Arthur came inside.
Norah knew exactly what the little boy was doing.
So did Arthur.
Neither stopped him.
One Saturday, Henry fell asleep on Norah’s couch.
Arthur stood near the window.
“You should be resting.”
“I am sitting.”
“You carried groceries.”
“They weighed twelve pounds.”
“The surgeon said no heavy lifting.”
“That was eight weeks ago.”
Arthur frowned.
Norah laughed.
“You miss ordering me around.”
“No.”
“You absolutely do.”
He looked at her.
“I miss you in the house.”
The laughter disappeared.
Arthur continued.
“Henry does too.”
Norah’s chest tightened.
“And you?”
His answer came quietly.
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
Then Norah asked, “When did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That this wasn’t only about Henry.”
Arthur looked uncomfortable.
Good.
She enjoyed that.
“The hospital.”
“When?”
“The first night.”
“That fast?”
“No.”
He exhaled.
“That was when I realized it.”
Norah’s heart changed rhythm.
Arthur stepped closer.
“I had been noticing you for months.”
“You barely spoke to me.”
“I noticed anyway.”
“That is creepy.”
“Probably.”
She smiled.
Then stopped.
“I can’t become another woman inside your house who doesn’t know what your world is doing around her.”
Arthur knew she meant Catherine.
And Elise.
Women kept in darkness until darkness killed them.
“You won’t.”
“How can you promise that?”
“I can’t.”
He swallowed.
“I can promise I will never deliberately make you smaller so I can feel more in control.”
That was better.
Before Norah could answer, Henry woke.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going to kiss Norah?”
Arthur went completely still.
Norah laughed so hard her incision hurt.
Arthur looked at his son.
“Go back to sleep.”
Henry closed his eyes.
“Coward.”
Norah had to cover her mouth.
Arthur stared at the ceiling as if asking God why.
Then his phone rang.
Vincent.
Richard had offered federal prosecutors a cooperation deal.
In exchange, he claimed he could reveal one final secret.
Arthur frowned.
“What secret?”
Vincent’s voice became grim.
“Henry’s birth records.”
Arthur’s blood turned cold.
May you like
Richard claimed Catherine’s death was not the only crime committed that night.
There had been another baby in the delivery room.
