Chapter 1 - The Door
“If you don’t leave immediately,” James said, “I will call the police and tell them exactly what happened.”
Lauren’s nervous smile disappeared.
For several seconds, nobody at the table moved.
Emma was still crying against my chest.
Her tiny fingers clutched the collar of my sweater while I rocked her and tried to keep my own hands from shaking.
Lauren stared at James as though she expected him to back down.
He didn’t.
“You’d call the police on me over one little tap?” she asked.
James’s jaw tightened.
“Do not minimize what you did.”
Mom finally looked up.
“James, maybe we can all calm down.”
He turned toward her.
His voice remained level.
“Your adult daughter struck my six-month-old baby.”
Mom’s face went pale.
“That isn’t something we calm down and forget.”
Lauren grabbed her purse.
“Oh, please.”
She looked at me.
“You’ve always loved making yourself the victim.”
Something inside me snapped.
“This isn’t about me.”
I shifted Emma higher against my shoulder.
“This is about the baby you just hit.”
Lauren rolled her eyes.
James took one step toward the hallway.
“Door.”
That single word changed her expression.
For the first time, Lauren understood that nobody was going to laugh this away.
She shoved her chair aside and stormed toward the front entrance.
Dad followed her.
“Lauren, wait.”
James stopped him with a look.
Dad froze.
Lauren yanked open the door.
Cold air rushed into the house.
Before stepping outside, she turned around.
“You people are insane.”
Then she pointed at me.
“And when this family falls apart, remember who caused it.”
I nearly laughed.
James answered before I could.
“We will.”
Lauren slammed the door.
The glass rattled.
No one returned to dinner.
James came directly to me.
He gently touched Emma’s cheek and examined her under the dining-room light.
There was no visible mark.
That should have comforted me.
It didn’t.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
Mom stood.
“You can’t leave on Christmas.”
I looked at the table where everyone had watched my sister strike my daughter and then looked away.
“Yes,” I said.
“We can.”
Twenty minutes later, we were driving through the snow.
Emma finally slept in her car seat.
James kept both hands on the wheel.
Neither of us spoke until my phone began vibrating.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
I expected Lauren.
Instead, the message was from my mother.
Don’t go home yet.
A second message appeared.
May you like
There’s something about Lauren you need to know.
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