Part 2
Three weeks earlier, I had come home before sunset for the first time in months.
A customer had postponed a cabinet installation after discovering a plumbing leak, so I locked up my workshop and drove home with sawdust still clinging to my jeans.
The September light made every window in our neighborhood shine orange. Kids rode bicycles in the street. Someone was grilling hamburgers, and the smoky smell followed me all the way to our driveway.
Our house was the first one I had ever built.
Not designed. Not financed. Built.
I had framed walls with my own hands, installed the floors, and spent an entire winter sanding the maple staircase after work. Rachel had sat on overturned buckets while pregnant with Lily, reading baby-name books and handing me screws.
That house had always felt safe.
Until I walked into the kitchen and found Lily sitting alone at the table.
Her apple slices had turned brown around the edges. Her backpack rested unopened by her chair.
“Hey, Bug.”
Usually she would have launched into a full report about school before I got my boots off.
That day, she stared at the table.
“How was class?”
“Fine.”
“Only fine?”
She shrugged.
I opened the refrigerator, then closed it without taking anything. The quiet felt wrong.
“Where’s Mom?”
“Upstairs.”
“Working?”
“Sleeping.”
Lily picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.
“Grandma Marlene made her tea.”
That explained why Marlene’s luxury SUV had been parked around the corner. She did that sometimes, claiming the afternoon sun faded the paint if she left it in our driveway.
“Was Grandma here when you got home?”
“She picked me up.”
I frowned. “Your mom didn’t mention that.”
“She said Mom called her.”
Lily finally looked at me.
There was something guarded in her eyes.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly.
I crouched beside her chair. “Did Grandma say something to you?”
“She says lots of things.”
“What kind of things?”
Lily pushed back from the table.
“Can I go outside?”
“Stay where I can see you.”
She was through the back door before I finished speaking.
I found Rachel upstairs with the curtains closed. She lay on top of the blanket in her work clothes, one shoe still on her foot.
Her skin looked gray beneath the bedside lamp.
“Hey,” I said softly.
She opened her eyes halfway.
“You’re home early.”
“Apparently just in time.”
I sat beside her and touched her forehead. Her skin felt damp but not hot.
“Another headache?”
“Worse than yesterday.”
That caught my attention.
Rachel rarely complained. She had once driven herself to urgent care with a fractured wrist because she did not want to interrupt me at a job site.
“This is the third one this week.”
“I know.”
“You need a doctor.”
“I made an appointment.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
She swallowed and winced.
“Mom thinks it’s stress.”
Of course she did.
Marlene always had an explanation. She had worked in nursing for years before retiring, and she treated every conversation about health as if she were delivering a diagnosis from a stage.
“What did she give you?”
“Chamomile tea. Some vitamins.”
“Anything else?”
Rachel frowned. “Why?”
“No reason.”
She closed her eyes again.
“She’s trying to help, Ethan.”
I looked toward the nightstand.
A pale ring from a coffee mug marked the wood. Beside it sat a plastic organizer divided into seven compartments. Several unfamiliar capsules rested inside.
“Marlene brought those?”
“She said they might help with fatigue.”
I picked up the organizer.
The capsules had no labels.
“Rachel, you shouldn’t take things when you don’t know what they are.”
“She knows what she’s doing.”
The irritation in her voice surprised me.
Then she softened.
“Sorry. I’m exhausted.”
I returned the organizer to the nightstand.
Downstairs, the back door opened and closed. A moment later, I heard Marlene’s heels in the hallway.
She appeared in the bedroom doorway carrying a fresh cup.
“You’re awake,” she said to Rachel.
Then she noticed me.
Her smile tightened.
“Ethan. I didn’t realize you were home.”
“Plans changed.”
“How unfortunate for your customer.”
She carried the cup to the bed.
“I made something that should help Rachel sleep.”
Rachel reached for it.
Before she could take it, I intercepted the cup.
“I’ll bring it to her after it cools.”
Marlene’s hand stayed wrapped around the handle.
For one second, neither of us let go.
Then she smiled.
“Of course.”
May you like
Later that evening, Rachel became violently sick.
And when I went to clean the bedroom, the unlabeled capsules had disappeared.
