Chapter 1 - THE WATER
Gwendolyn’s fingers dug into my jaw until pain shot through my teeth.
I tried to twist away, but the bruised wrist pinned beneath my body could not support me. She pressed the glass pitcher against my lips and tilted it.
Brown water rushed into my mouth.
The smell reached me before the taste—soap, dust, skin, and something metallic from the basin where she had soaked her feet after coming home.
I choked.
Water spilled over my chin and soaked the front of my nightgown.
Gwendolyn laughed.
“How does my foot wash taste?”
I struck weakly at her forearm.
She tightened her grip.
“Swallow it.”
The bedroom door opened.
Lucas stood in the doorway holding his smartphone and work bag.
My son’s face changed as he took in the pitcher, the muddy water, my knees pressed into the carpet, and Gwendolyn’s hand around my chin.
For one second, none of us moved.
Then Lucas dropped his bag.
He crossed the room and slapped Gwendolyn across the face.
The pitcher left her hand.
Glass shattered across the floor.
“Step away from my mother.”
Gwendolyn staggered against the dresser, one palm pressed to her cheek.
“You hit me.”
Lucas knelt beside me.
“Mom, can you breathe?”
I coughed until my ribs hurt.
He reached for my wrist.
I tried to pull my sleeve down.
He stopped.
“Let me see.”
His fingers eased the fabric upward.
Dark bruises circled my forearm. Finger-shaped marks crossed the inside of my wrist. A yellowing patch extended toward my elbow.
Lucas stared.
“What happened?”
I looked at Gwendolyn.
She had gone pale.
“I fell,” I whispered.
“Mom.”
Gwendolyn stepped toward us.
“She bruises easily. You know that.”
Lucas moved between us.
His shoe struck something beneath the bed.
A black medical bag.
Gwendolyn immediately bent toward it.
Lucas blocked her with one arm.
“That’s mine,” she said.
“Why is it under my mother’s bed?”
“I keep her supplies there.”
I gripped Lucas’s wrist.
The warmth of his skin made me realize how cold my own hands were.
“She said you’d never see me again if I told you.”
His eyes met mine.
“Who said that?”
I could not speak.
He already knew.
Lucas pulled the bag into the light.
The zipper trembled in his hand.
Gwendolyn lunged.
He pushed her away without striking her again.
“Don’t touch it.”
He opened the bag.
Inside were medication bottles still sealed in pharmacy bags. My blood-pressure tablets. My heart medication. The pills my doctor had increased after I supposedly began having dangerous episodes of confusion.
None had been opened.
Beneath them lay a thick folder closed with a red elastic band.
Gwendolyn screamed.
“That bag belongs to me—give it back!”
Lucas removed the folder.
The first page carried the address of the farmhouse my husband and I had bought forty-six years earlier.
My property.
My signature appeared beneath a transfer clause.
Lucas turned to the second page.
His face drained.
“Why is my mother’s property deed inside your bag?”
Gwendolyn backed toward the door.
“It isn’t what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“That I stole something.”
“Did she sign this?”
“She agreed months ago.”
“I did not,” I said.
The words came out stronger than I expected.
Lucas looked at me.
Gwendolyn reached the doorway.
Sirens had not been called.
No one outside knew what was happening.
She could still run.
Lucas lifted his phone.
“Stay where you are.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re going to regret choosing her.”
“She’s my mother.”
“And I’m your wife.”
Gwendolyn took another step backward.
Then my phone began ringing inside the locked dresser drawer.
Lucas heard it.
Gwendolyn stopped.
The caller’s name flashed through the narrow glass panel.
Briar Haven Medical Transport.
Lucas looked from the phone to the black bag.
May you like
“Why is a transport company calling my mother?”
Gwendolyn turned and ran.
