Chapter 7 - SHE STILL DOESN'T SUSPECT ANYTHING
Emma did not answer Nathan's next message.
She answered Eleanor instead.
"I saw the article."
"Nathan did too."
"I figured."
"He wants to respond."
Emma stood behind the bookstore counter folding tissue paper around a first edition someone had ordered as a birthday gift.
"Of course he does."
"He hasn't."
Emma's hands stopped.
"Why?"
"His therapist told him to find out what you want before turning your life into a public statement."
Emma stared at the wrapped book.
"His therapist?"
"Yes."
"Nathan has a therapist?"
"Apparently civilization continues to produce miracles."
Emma laughed.
Then she hated herself for laughing.
Eleanor heard the change.
"You are allowed to find something funny without it becoming forgiveness."
"Everyone in Oregon keeps telling me I'm allowed to do things."
"Maybe New York was doing a terrible job."
Emma carried the package to the outgoing shelf.
"Did Olivia leak it?"
"It looks that way."
"Looks?"
"Foundation counsel says the evidence is suggestive. Nathan is refusing to call it proven until the audit is complete."
Emma leaned against the counter.
That sounded like him.
Or the version of him she remembered from before power made certainty convenient.
"Eleanor?"
"Yes?"
"I need to ask you something and I need you not to protect him."
"Okay."
Emma swallowed.
"Did he ever tell you he loved Olivia?"
"No."
"Did he tell you he was unhappy with me?"
A longer pause.
"He said you two had stopped talking."
Emma closed her eyes.
"When?"
"After the second miscarriage."
The bookstore disappeared for a moment.
Emma was back in their bathroom, sitting on the tile because standing hurt too much.
Nathan had been outside the door.
"Do you want me to come in?"
She had said no.
He had believed her.
That was the beginning of something neither of them recognized.
Emma started saying no when she meant please keep asking.
Nathan started taking no as permission to escape.
"He was unhappy," Emma said.
"So were you."
"I know."
"That does not make Olivia inevitable."
"I know."
Emma looked toward the front window.
Rain blurred the harbor.
"I saw a message once."
"From Olivia?"
"She still doesn't suspect anything."
Eleanor went quiet.
"Nathan knows about that?"
"No."
"Why didn't you ask him?"
Emma's throat tightened.
"Because I was afraid he'd tell me what it meant."
There.
Her own failure.
Not equivalent to his.
Not an excuse for him.
But real.
She had been monitoring a marriage she was too frightened to enter honestly.
That afternoon, Emma's counselor asked the same question more directly.
"What would have happened if Nathan told you the worst thing you feared?"
"I would have had to leave."
"And what would have happened if he told you something less terrible?"
Emma considered it.
"I would have had to admit I'd been living inside a suspicion instead of asking."
"Which possibility scared you more?"
Emma laughed without humor.
"Depends on the day."
The counselor nodded.
"That is useful."
Emma stared at her.
"I am starting to resent that word."
"Good. It means you're listening."
That night, Emma sat at the small kitchen table with her phone in front of her.
Nathan's messages had become predictable.
One per week.
No questions.
No location requests.
No love-bombing.
The latest read:
I saw the article.
I am not responding publicly unless you want me to correct something specific about you.
The foundation is investigating the source.
I hope your appointment went well.
Emma read the last sentence twice.
He did not know when her appointment had been.
He only knew she had transferred care.
He had left the timing alone.
She opened a new message.
I saw the news about Olivia.
She stared.
Deleted it.
Started again.
Please don't use firing Olivia as proof you fixed our marriage.
She sent it before she could soften the sentence.
Nathan replied forty minutes later.
I won't.
Removing a bad boundary is basic responsibility.
It is not an argument for you to come home.
Emma read the message until the words blurred.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown Oregon number.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Whitmore?"
"Yes."
"This is Dana from Pacific Women's Imaging. Dr. Shaw asked us to call. Your anatomy scan results are normal, but the doctor wants to speak with you about one finding."
Emma's hand went cold.
"What finding?"
"It may be nothing. She'd prefer to explain it herself."
Every old fear arrived at once.
The miscarriages.
The empty exam room.
Nathan asleep beside a phone that always seemed more urgent than grief.
Emma pressed her palm over her stomach.
"When can I see her?"
"Tomorrow morning."
Emma said yes.
Then sat in the dark for ten minutes before realizing there was one person she wanted to call.
Nathan.
She stared at his name.
Her thumb hovered.
Then she called June instead.
Not because Nathan didn't matter.
Because fear did not get to make every choice for her anymore.
---
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