Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WHO STOPPED TALKING
The first time I realized something was wrong with Lily, she was seven.
She had come to my house for the weekend.
It was raining outside, and we were sitting at the kitchen table making pancakes.
She had flour on her cheek.
I had flour on my shirt.
Neither of us knew how to make pancakes without turning the kitchen into a disaster.
"So," I said, "how's school?"
"Good."
"Good is suspiciously short."
She smiled.
Then she looked at her plate.
"What did you do today?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Math."
"Anything else?"
She shook her head.
I put down the spatula.
"Lily."
She looked at me.
"You know you can tell Grandpa anything."
"I know."
"And you know you're safe here."
She nodded.
Then she asked:
"Can Vanessa hear us?"
I felt something cold move through my stomach.
"No."
She looked toward the kitchen doorway.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
She leaned closer.
Then she whispered:
"Sometimes she gets mad when Daddy isn't home."
"What does she get mad about?"
Lily shrugged.
"Everything."
"What happens when she gets mad?"
"Nothing."
The answer came too quickly.
I knew that kind of answer.
Adults used it all the time.
Children used it when they were afraid of the consequences of telling the truth.
But before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
It was Mark.
He wanted to know how Lily was doing.
I told him she was fine.
When I looked back at Lily, she was already eating pancakes.
The conversation was over.
Or so I thought.
A few months later, Lily stopped calling me Grandpa.
She started calling me Thomas.
At first, I thought it was cute.
Then I realized she only did it when Vanessa was around.
"Thomas, can you pass the salt?"
"Thomas, we're leaving."
"Thomas, Lily has homework."
It wasn't the name that bothered me.
It was the distance.
Vanessa was teaching her something.
I just didn't know what.
I tried talking to Mark.
One evening, after Lily had gone upstairs, I said:
"How's she doing?"
"Fine."
"Really?"
Mark looked at me.
"What does that mean?"
"It means she seems different."
"She's growing up."
"She's seven."
Mark sighed.
"Dad, please."
"Please what?"
"Don't start."
"Start what?"
"You've never liked Vanessa."
I stared at him.
"That's not true."
"You don't have to say it. I can see it."
"I want you to be happy."
"I am."
"And I want Lily to be happy."
"She is."
We stared at each other.
Then Mark said something I would remember for the rest of my life.
"Sarah isn't coming back."
I felt as though he had slapped me.
"What does Sarah have to do with this?"
"Everything."
"No."
"You look at Vanessa and see the woman who came after Sarah."
"That's not fair."
"I know you're grieving."
"So are you."
"I've moved on."
I didn't answer.
He walked away.
I stood alone in his kitchen.
And for the first time, I wondered whether my concern for Lily was actually making things worse.
So I backed away.
I stopped asking questions.
I stopped commenting on Vanessa.
I told myself that Mark was right.
I had to let him be her father.
That decision haunted me.
Because by the time Lily turned nine, she had learned how to disappear while standing in the same room.
At the birthday party, she barely touched the food.
She sat beside me at the dining table.
Everyone was talking.
Music played softly.
Mark was taking photographs.
Vanessa moved between the guests like a hostess at a formal event.
"Smile, Lily."
Lily smiled.
"Look at Grandpa."
She looked at me.
"Smile."
She smiled again.
But her eyes didn't.
I leaned toward her.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
"Sure?"
She nodded again.
"Want to open your telescope?"
She looked toward Vanessa.
"Maybe later."
"Why?"
She didn't answer.
Before I could ask again, Vanessa appeared beside us.
"Lily, go check whether the cake is ready."
"It's already on the table."
"Then go make sure everything is ready."
Lily stood.
"Okay."
I watched her walk away.
"She doesn't have to serve everyone," I said quietly.
Vanessa looked at me.
"Excuse me?"
"She's nine."
"And?"
"And it's her birthday."
Vanessa smiled.
"She's learning responsibility."
I looked at her.
"There's a difference between responsibility and fear."
Her smile disappeared.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
She leaned closer.
"You've always thought you know what's best for everyone."
"I don't."
"Then perhaps you should stop acting like it."
Before I could answer, Mark walked over.
"Dad."
I looked at him.
"Everything okay?"
"Perfect."
Vanessa smiled again.
"Thomas was just telling me how much he values our parenting choices."
Mark gave a small laugh.
I didn't.
Then the birthday song began.
Everyone gathered around the table.
Lily stood beside the cake.
Nine candles flickered in front of her.
Mark placed a hand on her shoulder.
Vanessa stood on her other side.
For a moment, everything looked normal.
A father.
A stepmother.
A little girl.
A birthday.
Then Lily closed her eyes.
Everyone began singing.
She opened them.
And for just one second, I saw something in her expression.
Fear.
Not birthday nerves.
Not shyness.
Fear.
She looked past the candles.
Toward Vanessa.
Vanessa stared back.
Lily immediately lowered her eyes.
I noticed.
I couldn't explain why.
But I noticed.
After the cake was cut, the children ran into the living room.
Lily followed.
Then I heard a sharp sound.
A crack.
A scream.
And then silence.
I rushed toward the living room.
The crystal horse was on the floor.
Broken.
Lily stood six feet away.
Vanessa pointed at her.
"You did this."
Lily shook her head.
"I didn't."
"I saw you."
"No."
"Lily."
"I didn't touch it!"
Mark walked into the room.
"What happened?"
Vanessa turned toward him.
"She broke it."
Lily looked at her father.
"No, Daddy."
Mark looked at the floor.
Then at Lily.
"Did you touch it?"
"No."
"Lily."
"I didn't!"
"Tell the truth."
"I am!"
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"She's lying."
The room went silent.
I watched my granddaughter's face collapse.
Then Mark said:
"You need to apologize."
Lily stared at him.
"For something I didn't do?"
Mark's expression hardened.
"Don't make this worse."
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
And that was when I stood up.
"Enough."
Twenty people turned toward me.
Mark stared.
"Dad."
I looked at my son.
"Don't make her apologize for something you haven't proved."
Vanessa's voice was cold.
"Thomas, you weren't here."
"I was."
"Not when it happened."
"No."
I looked at the tripod.
"But the camera was."
Vanessa stopped breathing.
That was when I saw it.
The smallest flicker of panic in her eyes.
And suddenly I knew.
Whatever had happened to that sculpture...
Vanessa was terrified of being seen.
That night, after the footage ended, Lily told me about her mother.
But she didn't tell me everything.
Not yet.
She waited until everyone had gone.
Mark was upstairs arguing with Vanessa.
I sat with Lily in the kitchen.
She was wrapped in a blanket.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes?"
"Do you remember when Mommy died?"
"Every day."
"Did you know everything?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
She looked at the table.
"Vanessa told me not to talk about that night."
My heart began pounding.
"What night?"
"The night Mommy died."
"Why?"
"She said Daddy would get angry."
I leaned closer.
"What did she tell you?"
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
"She said Mommy was driving too fast."
"That's what the police said."
Lily shook her head.
"No."
"What?"
"Mommy wasn't driving."
The room seemed to tilt.
"What did you say?"
Lily looked toward the doorway.
Then she whispered:
"Mommy was already hurt when Daddy found her."
I stared at my granddaughter.
"Who told you that?"
Lily didn't answer.
Instead, she reached into her pajama pocket.
She pulled out a tiny folded piece of paper.
"I found this in Vanessa's room."
She placed it on the table.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
Three words.
May you like
Written in Sarah's handwriting.
DON'T TRUST VANESSA.
