Instead, he checked Brooke’s hand.
“Are you okay?”
Brooke’s eyes grew wet.
“I know Mara can’t stand me, but I never thought she’d teach Maisie to bite.”
Cole turned toward our daughter.
“Come here.”
He lifted her by the arm. She winced.
“Who taught you to do that?”
“She was kissing you.”
“Don’t talk back. Apologize to Brooke.”
Maisie glanced toward the doorway.
“But Mommy—”
“Now, Maisie.”
Her father’s voice made her tremble. She lowered her head.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Brooke.”
Then she reached for Cole’s shirt.
“I said sorry. Can we help Mommy now?”
There was hope in the way she asked, as if the right words might finally make him understand.
Brooke rubbed her wrist.
“Cole, it really hurts. Could you get me something for it?”
He set Maisie down.
“Go downstairs. Let me take care of this.”
He closed the bedroom door.
My daughter stood looking at it for a moment, then began the long trip down the stairs alone. I walked beside her, trying to steady her when her foot missed a step. She made it safely to the bottom and hurried to my side.
“Mommy, I apologized,” she said. “But Daddy wouldn’t come.”
She lay down close to me and touched my hand.
“Your fingers are so cold.”
Maisie went to the sofa for her pink coat and placed it over my chest. Then she found another blanket, tucked herself beneath it beside me, and tried to sleep.
A little after midnight, Judith came downstairs for water. She saw Maisie curled up against me and shook her head.
“Stubborn, just like her mother.”
She turned off the last lamp and went back upstairs.
I watched Maisie struggle to keep her eyes open. Whenever she drifted off, she jolted awake and touched my cheek.
“Mommy?”
She pressed her ear to my chest, using the way we had played with her toy stethoscope.
“Your heart isn’t going thump-thump.”
She looked toward the stairs.
“Daddy?”
No one answered.
Then she remembered the emergency number from a cartoon we had watched together. She reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. It had locked, but she pressed my finger against the screen until it opened. I watched her tap the emergency button.
“Mommy, I’m getting a doctor,” she whispered.
Cole appeared at the top of the stairs before she could finish.
“What are you doing with your mother’s phone?”
“I’m calling a doctor. Mommy isn’t breathing.”
He took the phone from her and ended the call.
“You shouldn’t play with things you don’t understand. Go back to bed.”
“But Mommy won’t move!”
Cole looked down at me. For the first time, he came close enough to see my face clearly. He crouched beside me, and I felt a flicker of hope.
Please, I thought. Just touch my neck. Check for a pulse. Look at my head.
He stopped short.
“Mara, I know you can hear me,” he said. “You’ve frightened Maisie enough. If you keep this up in the morning, I’m taking her to my brother’s place.”
Then he went upstairs.
Maisie watched him disappear, then crawled under the blanket and pressed against my side.
“Daddy’s mad,” she whispered. “Don’t make any noise, Mommy.”
She thought she was protecting me. She had no way of knowing that the person in danger was still the one who could hear her.
The Brother at the Door
At seven the next morning, the doorbell rang.
Judith answered it in her robe.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Peter.”
Cole’s younger brother had been away at a college conference. He had expected to return later that afternoon, but his plans had changed. He carried a backpack and a box of pastries.
“I caught an earlier train,” he said. “I brought breakfast.”
Judith’s face brightened.
“Come in, sweetheart. I saved some cake from last night.”
Peter set down his bag. Then he saw the blanket on the living room floor and the edge of my skirt beneath it.
“Mara?”
Judith gave a dismissive wave.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s been making a scene since dinner.”
Peter moved closer.
“Since last night?”
“Brooke pulled her chair away as a joke. Mara fell, and now she’s refusing to get up.”
Peter’s expression changed. He pulled the blanket back and saw my face. Then he noticed the stain on the floor beside my head.
He knelt and checked my wrist. His face went still.
“Mom, when did Mara last speak?”
Judith looked irritated.
“Don’t encourage this.”
“Answer me.”
It was the first time I had ever heard Peter raise his voice to her.
“At dinner,” Judith said. “Yesterday.”
Peter took out his phone and called for emergency help.
“I need an ambulance and police officers at this address. An adult woman is unresponsive and has a serious head injury.”
Judith’s face went pale.
“Why would you call the police? It was an accident.”
Peter did not answer. He was looking at the broken barrette tangled in my hair. When he moved a strand aside, his hand shook.
“Oh, Mara.”
Maisie came out from behind the sofa. Her hair was tangled, her cheeks streaked with dried tears.
“Uncle Peter!”
He gathered her into his arms.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Mommy won’t wake up. I covered her with a blanket and cleaned her head, but she’s still sleeping.”
Peter closed his eyes.
“How long has she been asleep?”
Maisie held up three fingers.
“Since Grandma’s party. Aunt Brooke moved the chair. Mommy fell down, and then she didn’t talk anymore.”
Peter looked at Judith.
“You knew she hit her head?”
Judith began to speak, then stopped.
“And you left her here all night?”
“We thought she was pretending.”
Peter stood with Maisie in his arms.
“You’ll have to explain that to the officers.”
The commotion woke Cole. He came downstairs with Brooke behind him, wearing one of his shirts.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Peter turned toward him.
“Why is Mara still on the floor?”
Cole frowned.
“Don’t start. She’s trying to get everyone’s attention.”
“Your wife is gone, Cole.”
For a moment, Cole gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“What are you talking about?”
“She has no pulse. She’s cold. She has a serious wound to her head. The ambulance is on its way.”
Cole pushed past his brother and dropped beside me.
“Mara.”
He shook my shoulder.
“Come on. Get up.”
Nothing changed.
“Mara, stop it.”
His voice wavered. He put two fingers against my neck, waited, then tried again. Finally, he leaned over my chest as if listening might bring back the sound he needed.
His face drained of color.
“No,” he whispered.
He rubbed my hands.
“She’s cold because she was on the floor. That’s all.”
Peter tried to keep him from lifting me.
“Let the professionals handle this.”
Cole pulled me into his arms.
“Mara! Wake up!”
Maisie buried her face against Peter’s shoulder.
“Uncle Peter, tell Daddy not to yell at Mommy.”
Cole stopped moving. He looked at his daughter as if he were seeing her for the first time: the swollen eyes, the red marks on her little hands, the bruise on her arm.
“Maisie…”
“I told you Mommy had a cut,” she said through her tears. “I told you lots of times.”
The emergency crew arrived and examined me. Their faces told Cole what he already knew. They asked everyone to step away and wait for the police.
