Chapter 3

As an “ordinary guest” on my husband’s list, I arrived at Leah’s house before he did.

Helen had twisted her ankle and asked me to bring over an album of Noah’s photographs.

When Leah opened the door, she looked at the paper bag in my hands before reluctantly stepping aside.

“Daniel isn’t here yet,” she said.

“I’m here to drop off the album.”

The living room had already been arranged for the memorial.

A photograph of Daniel and Noah stood in the center.

Beside it was a recent picture of Daniel standing behind Leah, the two of them holding the old bicycle Noah had left behind.

The previous Saturday, Daniel had said he was helping her move the bicycle into storage and would be home that afternoon.

That night, he texted to say he was too tired to drive and would sleep in the guest room.

The photograph was full of sunlight. A new ribbon had been tied around the handlebars. Nothing in it suggested an emergency.

I did not ask who had taken the picture. Leah did not explain.

After setting down the album, I went to wash my hands in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

A navy towel hung beside the door. Two cups sat side by side on the counter.

The white one had Leah’s name printed on it.

The gray one was engraved with a single letter.

D.

Daniel’s black toothbrush stood inside it. His razor and the aftershave I had bought him three months ago were beside it.

I set both hands on the sink because the gray cup had made the room tilt.

I had ordered a replacement bottle while the first one was sitting three miles from my bathroom.

On the calendar, thirty-seven nights were nothing more than black squares.

Inside that cup, they became mornings spent brushing his teeth, shaving, and changing his shirt.

“What are you looking for?”

Leah stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“I was washing my hands.” I turned off the faucet. “Why are Daniel’s things here?”

“He often stays late. Keeping toiletries here makes things easier.” Her answer came without hesitation. “You’re not going to be upset over a toothbrush, are you?”

I stepped into the hall.

The guest-room door had been left partly open. Two of Daniel’s shirts hung inside the closet. A pair of slippers sat beneath them.

I photographed only what was already visible: the toothbrush, the aftershave, and the two shirts hanging behind the open door.

Then I sent the images to a private folder with the date and left the drawers closed.

Daniel arrived ten minutes later.

Leah went straight to him and adjusted his collar. Then she asked whether he would still be sleeping in the guest room that night.

He looked at me first and frowned.

“Let’s get through the memorial preparations. Don’t create tension right now.”

“Who created it?” I asked. “The woman who found the toothbrush, or the husband who put it there?”

Leah lowered her head and rearranged the photographs, a hint of satisfaction at the corner of her mouth.

Daniel lowered his voice and said the family would arrive tomorrow. He did not want Helen upset.

Daniel glanced toward the photographs instead of answering me.

“After the memorial,” he said again.

I had heard after the storm, after Christmas, and after Leah fell asleep. I picked up my bag.

“After the memorial, I’m going to ask you once more,” I said. “If your answer is that you still need time, I’ll take it as a no.”

Daniel opened his mouth to argue. Leah had already stepped beside him and closed her fingers around his sleeve.

He did not pull away.

I turned and left.

I had reached the porch when Leah followed me outside.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

“Emma, do you honestly believe all he ever did here was sleep?”