Chapter 4 - The Marriage That Lasted Two HoursThe first thing Margot asked when we reached home was whether she could sleep in her father's bed.
Emmett answered before she'd finished the question.
"Of course you can, sweetheart."
She seemed relieved.
We were in the house Phoebe and Emmett had bought shortly after Margot was born, a modest two-story property on a quiet, tree-lined street.
Phoebe had painted the kitchen cabinets herself.
Her gardening gloves still hung beside the back door.
And on the staircase wall were dozens of framed family photographs.
Emmett carried Margot upstairs while I made tea.
I could hear his voice through the ceiling.
Soft.
Patient.
The same voice he'd used when she was a baby.
By the time I brought him a mug, Margot had changed into pajamas covered with tiny yellow stars.
She was sitting beneath her blankets with Button tucked under her chin.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Are you mad at me?"
Emmett sat on the edge of her bed.
"No."
"Not even a little?"
"Not even one tiny bit."
She considered that.
"Are you mad at Claire?"
He hesitated.
"I'm very upset about what Claire said."
"Because she hurt my feelings?"
"Yes."
Margot lowered her eyes.
"Maybe if I was prettier, she would've wanted me in the pictures."
I felt the room tilt.
Emmett's expression became almost unbearable to watch.
He moved closer.
"Margot, look at me."
She obeyed.
"Nothing about this happened because you weren't pretty enough or good enough. Claire was wrong. Adults can make terrible choices, and sometimes those choices hurt people who haven't done anything wrong."
Margot seemed to be searching his face for certainty.
"Will you still be my daddy if you get married again?"
Emmett pulled her gently onto his lap.
"I will be your daddy forever. Nothing changes that."
"Even if you have another baby?"
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Even then."
"And if the new baby is a boy?"
"Even then."
"What if it's a girl?"
He kissed the top of her head.
"Even if I have a hundred children, there will only ever be one Margot."
She leaned against him.
At last, her breathing slowed.
Twenty minutes later, she was asleep.
Emmett and I went downstairs.
His phone had accumulated seventeen missed calls.
Claire had sent thirteen messages.
The first few were angry.
The later ones sounded increasingly desperate.
You embarrassed me in front of everyone.
Your father-in-law had no right.
We need to talk.
I'm your wife.
Don't throw away two years over one misunderstanding.
Emmett placed the phone facedown on the kitchen table.
"I don't even know who I married."
I sat opposite him.
"How long had she been making comments about Margot?"
He frowned.
"What comments?"
"Think carefully."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Claire sometimes said I spoiled her."
"Anything else?"
"She thought Margot was too dependent on me. She didn't like when she came into our bedroom after nightmares."
I waited.
"She suggested we move some of Phoebe's photographs upstairs."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Said she wanted the house to feel like ours."
"Did she ask you to remove Phoebe's things?"
"Not exactly."
He paused.
"She wanted to redecorate Margot's room after the wedding."
"Margot loves her room."
"I know."
"What reason did Claire give?"
Emmett looked down at his hands.
"She said it was time for Margot to stop living in the past."
There it was.
Another piece.
He shook his head slowly.
"I thought she wanted us to move forward."
"Moving forward doesn't require erasing somebody who died."
"I know that now."
For a long time, we sat without speaking.
Then Emmett asked something that surprised me.
"Did Phoebe ever tell you she was worried I'd remarry?"
I shook my head.
"Your marriage was happy. There was never any reason for that conversation."
He stared toward the staircase.
"I wish she were here."
"So do I, son."
His eyes filled.
"I wish she could tell me what to do."
I reached across the table.
"I think she'd tell you to take care of Margot. Then she'd remind you that you're allowed to take care of yourself, too."
At eleven-thirty, someone knocked on the front door.
Three sharp knocks.
Then another three.
Emmett rose.
Through the glass panel, we could see Claire standing beneath the porch light.
She was still wearing her wedding gown.
Her hair had partly fallen from its carefully arranged style, and she was holding a small overnight bag.
Patricia stood beside her.
I quietly moved toward the staircase.
If this became unpleasant, I didn't want Margot waking to another confrontation.
Emmett opened the door but remained in the doorway.
"Claire."
She immediately stepped forward.
"Thank God. I've been calling you for hours."
"We were putting Margot to bed."
She looked past him and spotted me.
"Oh, wonderful. He's here."
"Don't start," Emmett warned.
Claire's expression hardened.
"Your father-in-law humiliated me in front of our entire wedding party."
I moved closer.
"Former father-in-law, technically," I said quietly. "Though Emmett has been my son for years."
Patricia crossed her arms.
"Arthur, what you did was cruel."
I looked at her.
"Did Claire tell you what she said to Margot?"
"Children misunderstand things."
"Did she tell you?"
Patricia looked away.
That answered enough.
Claire sighed dramatically.
"Emmett, please. Can we just go inside and talk like adults?"
"No."
Her eyes widened.
"No?"
"My daughter is asleep. We can speak tomorrow."
"I'm your wife!"
"You told my five-year-old that she wasn't important to me."
"I told her I wanted some boundaries!"
"You told her to stay out of the family photographs."
Claire threw up her hands.
"Yes! Because I wanted photographs of my wedding without your dead wife hanging over everything!"
Silence.
I saw Emmett physically recoil.
Claire seemed to realize what she'd said.
"That's not what I meant."
But it was too late.
Emmett stepped backward.
"Go home, Claire."
"This is my home now!"
"No. You've never lived here."
"We were supposed to move in together next week!"
"That isn't happening."
Patricia intervened.
"Emmett, you're making a permanent decision in the heat of the moment."
He looked at her.
"I'm making tonight's decision. Claire isn't staying here."
Claire began crying.
Whether the tears came from heartbreak, humiliation, or frustration, I couldn't tell.
Perhaps all three.
But as she stood there in her wedding gown, I thought of Margot crying alone in that corridor.
No one had rushed to comfort her.
No one had told Claire to be reasonable.
Emmett quietly closed the door.
He leaned against it for several seconds.
Then he whispered, "I can't do this."
I didn't tell him everything would be easy.
I knew it wouldn't.
I simply said, "You don't have to do it alone."
The following morning, Emmett contacted an attorney.
He explained the wedding, the confrontation, and Claire's statements.
Three days later, he filed a petition seeking an annulment on the grounds of deliberate deception, as advised after discussing his circumstances with counsel.
Whether the court would ultimately grant an annulment or require a different route to dissolve the marriage remained a legal question.
Emotionally, however, the marriage had ended before its wedding cake had even been served.
I thought the worst was behind us.
I was wrong.
Because on the fourth morning, an envelope arrived at Emmett's house.
There was no return address.
Inside was a printed photograph of Margot sitting alone outside the bridal suite.
May you like
Someone had written five words across the back.
"Ask what really happened."
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