The Mother's Promise(85)

“I saw the article in the newspaper, Alice, about your home-helper business. It referred to your daughter. I had to see with my own eyes if she was mine.”

Alice gripped the doorframe. This couldn’t be happening, Alice told herself. Not now, of all times.

“I moved to Atherton earlier this year,” he continued. “And I’ve been offering my services to local high schools to see if I’d run into Zoe.”

“You stay away from Zoe!” Alice screamed. “Do you understand? If you go anywhere near her—”

“I’ve already seen Zoe,” he said calmly. “Several times.”

The room began to spin.

“I’ve been counseling her, helping with her social anxiety.” When he smiled a little, Alice felt vomit rise in her throat. “She has my eyes.”

Dr. Sanders—why the hell did she still call him that, even in her mind?—looked at Sonja. “And, as it turned out, my wife is your social worker—”

Alice looked at Sonja. “What?”

“I didn’t know Zoe was his daughter,” she said. She seemed apologetic. “Not until last week.”

Alice knew she needed to get it together, but it was all too much. Dr. Sanders was here. He’d seen Zoe. Sonja was his wife.

“You can’t just show up like this,” Alice said finally. “How did you even know where to come?”

“I followed Sonja,” he said. “But you’re right. I haven’t gone about this the right way. But neither did you. You should have told me I had a daughter, Alice. You owed me that much.”

“I owed you—”

“Yes,” he said. “What’s more, you owed it to Zoe.”

Alice stared at him. She thought about how awed she’d once been by his confidence, the authority he commanded. But now she saw him for exactly what he was. Delusional.

She drew herself up to her full height. “Let’s get one thing clear. You have no rights here, George. Rapists aren’t owed anything.”

Dr. Sanders flinched a little, and Alice realized it was because she’d called him George. After all these years, after everything that had happened, he still thought he was owed respect. She was ready to continue, but before she could she felt a great twist in her belly that stole her breath.

“Where is Zoe now?” he demanded.

“It’s none of your business,” Alice panted.

“I’m her father.”

“Like hell you are!” Alice opened the door a little and slammed it again, hard, against his foot. He barely flinched.

“Alice, can we just talk for a minute? Like adults?”

“No.” Her stomach was full of knives. “We can’t.”

“I know you’re ill,” he said. His voice was quiet, but somehow it carried strength.

“It’s none of your business,” she repeated. “Get your foot out of my door.”

“I want to know what you’ve put in your will. For guardianship of Zoe!”

Alice shoved again on the door, but it was useless. “Hey! What’s going on here?”

Paul stood behind George in the hallway. He looked at George, then at Alice, in confusion. But it only took a moment before understanding came to his face. “This is the guy?”

Alice had barely nodded before Paul grabbed him by the back of the shirt. He spun him around and punched him, clean, in the jaw. Sonja cried out. Despite herself, Alice felt a tingle of satisfaction. She yanked Paul by the wrist into the apartment, locking the door. “What was that?” she cried.

Paul shrugged. “I told you I was going to step up and be a good brother.”

In other circumstances, Alice might have been touched. Unfortunately these weren’t other circumstances. And Alice couldn’t hold it any longer, she doubled over and vomited.





70

“He can’t do this,” Paul said, pacing. Alice lay on the sofa. She felt hot in the face, and her stomach radiated pain. She’d vomited another two times, mostly bile—a strange greenish color.

“He might be able to,” Alice said. “I’ll have to get a lawyer.”

“But he’s a rapist!” Paul said.

“I never filed a report. As far as the law is concerned, he’s an upstanding citizen.”

Alice felt weak. The pain in her abdomen was getting worse—little twisting blades in her gut.

“He won’t get her, Alice.”

Alice thought about Sonja. Alice couldn’t believe she’d found herself becoming fond of the woman who had been plotting to take her daughter away. All this time she’d thought Sonja was concerned about her when actually she’d been George’s wife! But it wasn’t just the betrayal that worried Alice. Frustrating as it was, Sonja lent a certain legitimacy to George. A judge might not give a child to her biological father if he was an alleged rapist. But if he was happily married to a social worker who could vouch for the fact that he was a good man? What happened then?

“Where’s my phone?” she asked Paul.

Paul had no idea. Eventually Alice located it, charging, by her bedside. She called Kate.

“Hello?”

“It’s Alice.”

There was just something about her voice that undid Alice.