No Mama

Graham set the glass of water on the nightstand and reached for his daughter’s sneakers. Lily sat on the edge of the mattress in her yellow cotton pajamas, her heels drumming a dull rhythm against the white slats of the toddler bed. Her damp hair still smelled of pool chlorine and baby shampoo.

The bedroom door clicked open. Vivienne stepped into the room, her silk robe whispering against the oak floor. She held Lily’s plush gray rabbit by one long ear.

“Time for sleep, sweet heart,” Vivienne said. She leaned over the low wooden rail. “Come give Mama a kiss.”

Lily pulled back so hard her small shoulders hit the headboard. She didn’t reach for the rabbit. Her arms shot forward, both palms flat, shoving against the empty air between them.

“No,” Lily said. Her voice broke on the syllable. “No Mama.”

“Darling, don’t be silly,” Vivienne said. Her hands stayed out, her diamond rings catching the yellow lamp glow. “You need your rest after that awful afternoon.”

Lily scrambled across the mattress on her knees. She grabbed Graham’s collar and buried her face into the crook of his neck, her whole body shaking. Her little fingers twisted the cotton of his shirt until the stitches strained.

“Cawa,” she whispered against his collarbone. “Want Cawa.”

Vivienne lowered her hands. She stood straight and smoothed the front of her cream robe with slow, flat-palmed strokes. “You see what that girl did? She poisoned the child against me. She had Lily thinking she was the mother.”

Graham kept his hand on Lily’s back. His voice dropped to an uncomfortably low register. “Clara was across the stone deck by the drink cart, Viv. You said you were sitting under the umbrella.”

“I was.”

“Then how did Lily end up in the deep end?”

“She ran, Graham.” Vivienne sighed and touched the hollow of her throat. “Toddlers bolt. You know how fast she moves. If Clara had been watching her instead of daydreaming, none of this would have happened. Why are you interrogating me instead of comforting our daughter?”

“I’m trying to picture it.”

“Don’t picture it.” Vivienne turned toward the hall, her chin raised. “Fire the girl and be done with it. Oliver has the legal papers drawn up. Sign them in the morning.”

She pulled the door shut behind her. The brass latch clicked into place with a sharp snap.

Graham stayed on the edge of the bed for twenty minutes until Lily’s breathing leveled out. Her grip on his collar softened, her small fingers opening against his chest. When he laid her down on the pillow, she curled around her knees, facing the wall.