Chapter 1 - THE CHAIR
The first thing I saw was the rope around Oren’s waist.
Not Ione.
Not Merritt.
Not Cassian standing uselessly in the hallway.
The rope.
It crossed my four-year-old son’s polo shirt and looped around the wooden dining chair as though somebody had decided a child could be secured to furniture until he became convenient.
“Oren!”
His head snapped toward me.
“Mommy!”
He was crying so hard the word broke into pieces.
Ione stood beside him holding his dinner plate.
Green beans.
Mashed potatoes.
Chicken cut into pieces because Oren still struggled with a knife.
She looked directly at me.
Then emptied the whole plate into the trash.
Oren reached desperately toward the table.
“I’m hungry!”
“You had your chance.”
“Ione.”
My voice sounded strange to me.
Low.
She ignored it.
Oren began twisting against the chair.
“Mommy!”
Ione shoved the chair backward.
Its front legs lifted.
I lunged.
My hands caught the backrest before it tipped.
“UNTIE MY CHILD!”
The entire room froze.
Merritt sat at the far end of the table.
Sixty-seven years old.
Hands folded beside an untouched glass of water.
He did not stand.
That would matter later.
I dropped to my knees.
The restraint was not rope exactly.
A wide fabric strap from some kind of luggage or exercise equipment.
Looped around Oren’s waist.
Knotted behind the chair.
His wrists were free.
His legs were free.
That did not make it acceptable.
My fingers shook too badly to untie the knot at first.
“Mommy, I said sorry.”
“I know.”
“I said it.”
“I know, baby.”
I finally pulled it free.
Oren launched himself at me.
He wrapped both arms around my neck.
His body was hot from crying.
Ione folded her arms.
“You’re teaching him that screaming gets results.”
I stood with Oren against my chest.
“You tied him to a chair.”
“He kept getting up.”
“He is four.”
“He threw his fork.”
“He is four.”
“He kicked the table.”
“He is four.”
Ione’s expression hardened.
“Animals belong on a leash.”
Oren buried his face against me.
I felt something inside me tear.
Then footsteps.
Cassian appeared in the doorway.
My husband looked handsome even when he was frightened.
That had fooled people his whole life.
Dress shirt.
Sleeves rolled once.
Wedding ring.
The face of a man everyone assumed would know what to do.
I waited for him to see our son.
To see the strap in my hand.
To hear what his mother had just said.
“Cassian.”
His eyes moved toward Ione.
Then the food on the floor beneath the trash can.
Then Oren.
“You need to calm down.”
For half a second I thought he was speaking to Ione.
He was looking at me.
I almost laughed.
“Your mother tied our four-year-old to a chair.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened.
“Mom said he’s been impossible lately.”
The sentence was worse than the strap.
Because it told me he already knew there was a problem.
Maybe not this.
Something.
Oren lifted his face.
Tears clung to his eyelashes.
“Daddy.”
Cassian looked at him.
“I’m here, buddy.”
Oren trembled harder.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
Cassian stopped.
I looked toward Merritt.
“You sat there?”
He finally stood.
“Zinnia, everybody is upset.”
“Were you here when she tied him?”
Merritt did not answer.
That was an answer.
Ione reached for her wine.
I slapped the glass away?
No.
I stopped myself.
Instead my hand landed on the table edge.
The beautiful family dinner.
Roast beef.
Wine.
Silver serving dishes.
Everything arranged as though civilization could be measured by place settings while a child was strapped beside them.
I swept my arm across the table.
Plates crashed.
Food scattered.
Ione screamed.
Merritt stepped backward.
Cassian said:
“Zinnia!”
I picked Oren up.
“You’re done.”
“Where are you going?” Cassian demanded.
“Away from here.”
“He’s my son too.”
“Then you should have acted like it before I walked into that room.”
I headed for the foyer.
Oren clutched the collar of my dress.
Behind me, Ione shouted:
“You are proving exactly what I said about you!”
I stopped.
Turned my head.
“Tomorrow, you’ll regret what you’ve done.”
Then I walked out.
Only after I buckled Oren into my car did I realize he was still holding something.
A folded piece of paper.
Crushed in his fist.
“What’s that?”
He looked at it.
“Grandma gave Daddy.”
“When?”
“Today.”
I gently unfolded it.
Most of the page was covered by colored blocks because Oren had scribbled on it.
Only the top remained readable.
HALBROOK FAMILY STABILIZATION EVALUATION
Patient:
OREN HALBROOK.
Appointment:
9:00 A.M. TOMORROW.
My skin went cold.
“What is this?”
Oren hugged his knees.
“Grandma said tomorrow the doctor decides where I live.”
May you like
And suddenly my threat about tomorrow no longer sounded dramatic.
Someone else had already planned it.
