Chapter 9

My sister’s name was Beth. We hadn’t spoken in a year because Kyle said she was jealous of our marriage. She wasn’t. She was just the only person who’d ever told me the truth.

I called her from Doreen’s kitchen. She answered on the second ring.

“Hannah?”

“I’m leaving him.”

A pause. Then: “Where are you?”

“Still in Vermont. But I need somewhere to go.”

“Come here. I’ll make up the guest room. Is Eli with you?”

“No. He’s in a care facility. Just until I get settled.”

“Bring him too. We’ll figure it out.”

I cried. I hadn’t cried in months. Not when Kyle broke my fingers. Not when he locked me in the pantry. Not when the social worker came. But I cried when my sister said “we.”

I packed a bag that night. Doreen helped me. She brought a box of canned goods from the pantry, even though I told her I didn’t need them.

“Take them,” she said. “You earned them.”

The next morning, I drove to the care facility to see Eli. He was in a private room with a window that looked out over a snowy field. His new tablet was mounted on his wheelchair. He was wearing a clean henley. His feeding pump was quiet.

I sat beside him. “I’m going to my sister’s,” I said. “It’s in New Hampshire. About three hours from here.”

He blinked once. Slow.

“I’ll come back for you. As soon as I can.”

He blinked again.

I took his hand. “You saved my life. You know that?”

He blinked twice. That was his “no.”

“Yes,” I said. “You did.”

The baby kicked. Eli’s eyes flicked to my belly. Then back to my face. He smiled. That crooked, beautiful smile.

I left the facility and drove to New Hampshire. The roads were clear. The sky was blue. For the first time in two years, I didn’t feel like I was being watched.