Chapter 2 - The Housekeeper’s Three “Children”
Nathan stayed in West Virginia for three days.
He had meetings scheduled in New York.
He canceled them.
His board complained.
He ignored them.
For the first time since I had known him, Nathan appeared completely unconcerned with his company's stock price, investors, or the opinion of his family.
His attention was on the three people I had spent eight years raising.
Johnny's condition required surgery.
Paul was trying to finish college while working part time.
Lily had been hiding her fainting spells because she knew we could barely afford another hospital bill.
Nathan found out about the financial situation by accident.
One afternoon, he walked into our rented house carrying groceries.
He opened the refrigerator.
There was almost nothing inside.
He looked at me.
“You sent money home last week.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Most of my paycheck.”
“How much?”
I hesitated.
“Thirty-four hundred.”
His face changed.
“Your entire paycheck?”
“Almost.”
“For groceries?”
“For school.”
He looked toward the dining table.
A stack of medical bills sat beneath a college tuition statement.
“You've been doing this every month?”
“Yes.”
“For eight years?”
“Yes.”
He sat down.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't marry you to become your financial responsibility.”
He looked at me for a long time.
“You're my wife.”
“That doesn't mean you have to fix everyone.”
“No.”
He lowered his voice.
“But it means I should know when you're drowning.”
I had no answer.
He picked up one of the tuition statements.
Paul walked in.
“Don't.”
Paul's voice was sharp.
Nathan turned.
Paul's expression was defensive.
“We don't want his money.”
Nathan looked at him.
“I didn't offer.”
Paul stared.
“Then why are you here?”
Nathan leaned back.
“Because your sister is my wife.”
Paul looked at me.
“She chose you.”
“Yes.”
“She shouldn't have to pay for us.”
“She doesn't have to.”
The room became silent.
Nathan pushed the bills back.
“Your sister isn't paying for you anymore.”
Paul frowned.
“What?”
“I am not giving you money.”
Paul almost looked relieved.
Nathan continued.
“I’m offering you a job.”
Paul stared.
“I don't need charity.”
“I need engineers.”
Paul blinked.
“What kind?”
“Mechanical systems.”
Paul studied him.
“That's my major.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I checked your academic record.”
Paul frowned.
“That sounds creepy.”
“It probably is.”
Paul laughed despite himself.
The tension broke.
For the first time, Nathan and my brother looked at each other without suspicion.
Then Johnny came into the room.
“We heard there was food.”
Nathan glanced at him.
“Your sister thinks you need to eat more.”
Johnny smiled.
“You're learning quickly.”
Nathan laughed.
I watched them.
Something warm settled inside me.
Maybe this strange marriage could become real.
That night, Nathan and I sat on the porch.
The Appalachian hills were dark beneath a clear sky.
He held two cups of coffee.
“Tell me about your father.”
I stared into the distance.
“He loved machines.”
“Machines?”
“Old cars. Radios. Broken appliances. Anything people threw away.”
Nathan smiled.
“My father liked things that could be controlled.”
“My father liked things that could be repaired.”
Nathan looked at me.
“That's a difference.”
“Yes.”
“How did he disappear?”
I swallowed.
“The night before he left, he told me to take care of the kids.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Did he say he was leaving?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“We had dinner.”
“Anything strange?”
“He kept checking the window.”
Nathan's expression hardened.
“Did he receive a call?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He just told me not to open the door if anyone came.”
Nathan leaned forward.
“Then?”
“After midnight, I heard his truck.”
“What time?”
“12:17.”
“Did he leave?”
“I thought so.”
She looked down.
“In the morning, he was gone.”
“What about the truck?”
“Found three miles away.”
“Your father’s?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“Nothing.”
Nathan looked toward the dark mountains.
“He didn't abandon you.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But I don't believe he did.”
The next day, we went to Hollow Creek.
The former recovery center was a crumbling concrete complex surrounded by trees.
The sign was half destroyed.
Nathan walked through the entrance.
I followed.
The building smelled of mold and old paper.
We found an office.
A filing cabinet.
Nathan forced the lock.
Inside were patient records.
Most were useless.
Then we found one file.
Patient name:
Samuel Carter.
Nathan froze.
My father.
Underneath his name:
Charles Carter.
Nathan's father.
And one more name.
Margaret Carter.
We read the document.
It showed that all three men had participated in a confidential treatment program.
Not medical treatment.
Behavioral mediation.
A private program created to resolve disputes between powerful families.
Nathan stared.
“My mother knew.”
“Yes.”
He turned the page.
There was a handwritten note.
Samuel Walsh believes his daughter's life is in danger.
Charles Carter agrees.
Margaret Carter refuses to cooperate.
Nathan looked at me.
“Your father thought you were in danger.”
I read the words.
“I was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he probably didn't trust anyone.”
I felt angry.
“Not even me.”
Nathan took my hand.
“He was trying to keep you alive.”
We searched the rest of the file.
At the bottom was a photograph.
The three men stood outside Hollow Creek.
The same photograph I had found.
But this version showed something else.
A fourth person.
A woman.
She stood partly outside the frame.
Margaret.
And a fifth person.
A young Nathan.
He was about fourteen.
He stood beside his father.
I stared.
“Nathan.”
He looked.
“I was there.”
“You remember?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“You were there.”
“I don't remember.”
Then we heard footsteps.
Someone was inside the building.
Nathan pulled me behind him.
“Who's there?”
A man's voice answered.
“You should have stayed in Greenwich.”
A gunshot shattered the hallway.
We ran.
Nathan pushed me behind a concrete wall.
Another shot.
Then silence.
The attacker disappeared.
But he left something behind.
A red folder.
Inside was one sentence.
Samuel Carter did not disappear.
May you like
He was taken.
And the person who ordered it was Margaret.
