« I know. Sadie asked Maya to meet near the bridge to apologize for spreading rumors about her portfolio. She was dropping out. »
« Why? »
« Because she knew Maya would win. And because she was tired of me pushing her and challenging a girl she admired. »
I looked down. « Then why did they leave in that storm? »
« The rain got worse. They were heading home. Then Maya’s phone rang. »
My chest tightened. « Who called? »
« Maya’s phone rang. »
Katherine’s voice broke.
« Your husband. »
« No. »
« Sadie said Maya answered and started crying. She kept saying, ‘Dad, please. Not tonight.’ Then she grabbed her things and ran to her car. »
« Jordan loved her. »
Katherine’s voice broke.
« I’m sure he did, » Katherine said. « But my daughter had no reason to spend her last words lying about him. »
Then she reached into her coat and pulled out a black leather sketchbook.
Maya’s sketchbook.
« Where did you get that? »
« Sadie must have picked it up before they ran to their cars. The hospital gave it to me with her things by mistake. I’m sorry. »
« You should be. »
« Where did you get that? »
« I am. »
I opened the swollen cover.
The first pages were smudged. Then I found a drawing of me at the kitchen sink, one hand over my mouth.
At the bottom, Maya had written:
« Mom Trying Not to Cry. »
I remembered that night. Jordan had told her art school was for fools with rich parents. Maya had run upstairs, and I had stood at the sink, pretending I was fine.
« Mom Trying Not to Cry. »
On the next page, she had written:
« Dad says artists become burdens. Mom says he just worries. »
Below that was one line that cut through me.
« I wish she’d stop trying to make him kinder. »
I sat down hard on the wet grass.
Katherine knelt across from me.
« Dad says artists become burdens. »
« I need to know everything, Katherine, » I said. « Please. »
« Then don’t stop with me, » Katherine said. « Talk to Maya’s teacher. Sadie said everyone knew Maya’s portfolio was the strongest. »
***
That afternoon, I went to Maya’s school with her sketchbook pressed against my chest.
Ms. Alvarez met me in the art room. Paint covered one cuff of her sweater.
« That was always in her hands, » she said.
« I need to know everything, Katherine. »
« Was Maya the front-runner? »
Ms. Alvarez looked away. « By far. The board told me a week before. »
« Was she going to reject it? »
She paused. « Who told you that? »
« Maya did. » I opened the sketchbook to the draft tucked between two pages. « Not out loud. But she wrote it. »
Ms. Alvarez sat down slowly. « She came to me the day before the accident. She was scared. »
« Was she going to reject it? »
« Of losing? »
« No, Jackie. Of winning. Your husband… he made art sound meaningless. He didn’t want her to do it. »
My fingers tightened on the book.
« What did Jordan say to her? »
Ms. Alvarez hesitated.
« Please don’t protect him from me. »
« What did Jordan say to her? »
« She told me he said if she accepted, she could pay for her own car, insurance, and college. »
I gripped the back of a chair. « And you told her? »
« To wait. To bring you in so we could talk together. »
« Maya never asked me. »
« I think she wanted to, » Ms. Alvarez said. « But she was afraid you’d explain him again. »
That landed harder than I expected.
« And you told her? »
***
I drove home, pulled my recipe binder from the pantry, and found the phone account password Jordan had mocked as « grandma tech. »
Soon, I had Maya’s call log. I hadn’t disconnected her number yet.
There was one call from Jordan.
Six minutes.
The same time Sadie said Maya ran to her car.
Six minutes before the first emergency call.
There was one call from Jordan.
***
When Jordan came home, the call log and sketchbook were on the table.
He stopped. « What’s this? »
« Did you call Maya that night? »
« No. »
I slid the call log forward. « Try again. »
