The Man in the Drawing

By breakfast, a guest had told a friend, who had told a reporter, who had described Lily as a miracle child beneath a photograph taken before the accident.

Nathaniel closed the article before she came downstairs.

Charles folded his newspaper with unnecessary care.

"I warned you about making a spectacle."

"I didn't call a reporter."

"That boy's mother might have."

Nathaniel looked across the breakfast table.

"She caught the last bus home after working in your kitchen. I doubt she spent the journey arranging publicity."

Charles buttered his toast.

"You know nothing about her."

Nathaniel's phone rang. Claire's name on the screen gave him an excuse to leave before he said something Lily might hear.

Later that morning, he took his daughter for the assessment they had discussed together. He had offered to stay in the waiting room. Lily asked him to come in but made him promise not to answer every question first.

He broke the promise once. She looked at him, and he stopped.

Afterward, Claire sat beside them without her examination gloves.

"Lily has recovered some strength," she explained. "That doesn't mean standing will be easy or consistent. We need to look at the physical difficulties and what happens when the accident feels close again."

Nathaniel wanted a schedule, a number, something to write down.

Lily had a different question.

"Do I have to do it in front of people?"

"No," Claire said.

"And Noah doesn't have to teach me?"

"Noah gets to be your friend."

Lily considered this, then asked if they could get fries on the way home.

Nathaniel bought them from a drive-through and ate his in the parking lot while she stole the longest ones from the bag. He almost mentioned that she was supposed to have lunch at home. Then she held up a fry shaped like a crooked finger, and he forgot.

Two days later, Rachel and Noah arrived at the side entrance in Mrs. Bell's car.

Noah wore sneakers with fresh glue visible along one sole. He carried a deck of cards secured with a rubber band.

Rachel had changed out of her apron, but she still stood as if somebody might ask her to return to work.

"Mrs. Bell said it was all right to bring him this afternoon."

"It is," Nathaniel said. "Lily's in the sunroom. Would you like coffee?"

"I'd like to know what you're expecting."

He appreciated the directness, although it startled him.

"A visit. Nothing more."

"He'll want to help her. If she has a bad day, he'll think it's his fault."

"Claire said the same thing. He's not responsible for her recovery."

Rachel studied him before taking off her coat.

"Then coffee would be nice."

Through the open sunroom doors, Nathaniel heard Lily say, "You can't look at the card before I tell you to."

"You dropped it faceup," Noah replied.

"That doesn't mean you have to read it."

For twenty minutes, Nathaniel tried to work in the adjoining room. He read the same email four times. Every burst of laughter pulled his eyes toward the doorway.

When he finally went in, Lily had a card tucked into the spokes of her wheel, Noah had one stuck to his sleeve, and Rachel was pretending not to notice either.

"You're both cheating," Nathaniel said.

"I'm winning," Lily corrected.

He stayed for the next hand.

Charles appeared just as Rachel began gathering her coat.

He stopped at the threshold, looking at the cards on the rug.

"May I speak to you, Nathaniel?"

In the library, Charles closed the door and laid a thin folder on the desk.

"I had someone look into the Bennetts."

Nathaniel did not touch it.

"Why?"

"Because apparently no one else in this house remembers to be careful. His father was convicted of armed robbery. He died in prison two years ago."

"And Noah was what age when he committed this robbery?"

"Don't be flippant."

"He's ten, Charles."

"And his mother has discovered a very convenient way into your confidence."

Nathaniel opened the door again.

"She asked for coffee. You spent money investigating her. At the moment, only one of those things concerns me."

Charles followed him into the hall.

"You cannot let pity make decisions about this family."

Rachel stood near the sunroom, her coat over one arm. From her expression, she had heard enough.

"We should go," she said.

Noah came out behind her. His cards were no longer in their box; he held them in a crooked stack against his chest.

Lily rolled to the doorway.

"He hasn't shown me the last trick."

"Another day," Rachel said.

Charles spoke before Nathaniel could intervene.

"I think it would be best if these visits ended here."

Noah looked at his mother, then down at his shoes.

Nathaniel stepped between Charles and the children.

"That isn't your decision."

"This is my house."

"Then tell me to leave. Don't do it through a child."

For a moment, even the clock seemed loud.

Rachel lifted her chin.

"I'm not asking anyone to fight over us."

"You shouldn't have to," Nathaniel said. "I'd like you to stay. But I understand if you'd rather go."

Noah's gaze moved to Lily. She had both hands flat on her wheels, ready to follow him.

"We could finish the trick," he said quietly.

Rachel took a breath, then hung her coat back on its hook.

Charles returned to the library. The door closed hard enough to rattle a picture.

Noah's final trick was terrible. He forgot which card Lily had chosen and tried to blame the deck. Nathaniel laughed, partly from relief, and Rachel finally sat back in her chair.

After cards came drawing. Mrs. Bell brought pencils, and Nathaniel went to his office to cancel an appointment he no longer wanted to keep.

When he returned, Rachel was washing a paintbrush at the little sink. Noah had drawn an enormous dog with legs too short for its body.

Lily's page showed a road.

Nathaniel recognized the bridge before he saw the car.

He stopped behind her chair.

She covered the picture with her forearm.

"I wasn't finished."

He pulled up a chair rather than standing over her.

"Can I look?"

After a moment, she moved her arm.

Rain slashed across the page in blue pencil. The car leaned toward the edge of the road. In the back seat, a woman had an open mouth. The driver held a black rectangle beside his head.

"Was he on the phone?" Nathaniel asked.

Lily nodded.

He had read the collision report until the pages softened. He did not remember a call.

"Do you know who he was talking to?"

Her fingers tightened around a purple pencil.

"Grandpa," she said. "Mom kept telling him to hang up."