Page 102 of The Voice We Find

“Does that mean you’re leaving California?”

“What?” I ask, veering into the present again.

“You said ‘regardless of where you end up.’” There’s a hint of something in Natalie’s voice I can’t decipher. “Do you have plans to leave?”

“Possibly,” I say honestly. “I have an in-person audition in LA on December 11th with a reputable traveling theater company. If I land the part, I’ll be relocating to company housing by New Year’s and on the road by spring.” I scheduled the flight for the morning after the winter showcase at Twilight Theater. It was the earliest I could leave without causing a disruption to the rehearsal schedule. The last thing I want to do is abandon Portia after all she entrusted to me. It was hard enough to tell her I might be leaving permanently depending on the outcome of my LA audition.

“But I thought you werepraying,” Natalie says, emphasizing the word, “about an opportunity at your friends’ theater?”

Honestly, I forgot I shared that with her in the hot tub, but by the pointed look on Natalie’s face, she hasn’t. “I did pray about it.”A lotis what I don’t say. I journaled my prayers nearly every day, asking God to bless the Pimentels’ vision for a deaf theater. Asking God to guide all their next steps. Asking God if He had a specific role in mind for me there. Thanking God for the provision He gave me in narration. Asking God to help me rebuild a life in California, full of thriving relationships, including the one that just disintegrated. “And I think God’s answer isno.”

Natalie doesn’t say anything for several long minutes as we continue with our wash-dry-stack routine, and I wonder, not for the first time, what she’s thinking about. I also wonder if she’d even be honest with me if I asked. While I haven’t spotted that Clinton guy around the house again, it doesn’t take a trained therapist to see Natalie is hiding a lot of secrets behind her flawless exterior.

“You can come to the winter showcase if you want; it’s on December 10th. I can get you a ticket.” I pause, hoping the discussion shifts away from my relationship woes. “There are some phenomenal acts, and Gabby is performing.”

Natalie doesn’t look up at me when she says, “I actually haveplans that night with Jasper. A holiday art auction, for charity. But thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course, I—”

“Natalie!” The sharp bark of my brother’s voice turns both our heads toward the open doorway.

“I’m in here,” she calls out, lifting one of our stacked boxes from the floor and shoving it on the counter in front of her. I can’t help but notice how the exertion causes her to wince. Natalie is a runner—her build is lean and athletic. I’ve been hauling these storage boxes around for the better part of two days. They can’t weigh more than twenty pounds apiece. So why—

Jasper fills the doorway. For a man who goes to great lengths to present a pristine appearance at all times, he is, at this moment, the antithesis of a public-facing business tycoon. His bloodshot eyes and unkempt hair are a precursor to his untucked, wrinkled dress shirt. I’ve worked hard to keep our paths from crossing over the last few weeks, but even still, I’m not sure I’d recognize my own brother if I ran into him on the street.

“I thought I told you to stay in the office today. You have paperwork that needs to be signed and overnighted,” he says to his wife before his eyes shift to me and narrow.

“I know,” Natalie starts, “but there was still too much clean-up work for Sophie to handle on her own after last night’s event—”

“Your job is to assistme, not her.” His forehead gleams with a fresh sheen of sweat, though this room is cool. “And I needed you up in the office hours ago.”

My hackles rise at his degrading tone. I’ve never heard my brother speak to my sister-in-law like this before. But then again, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen them interact openly since their wedding. If they’re together, they’re usually behind closed doors, unseen and unheard.

“We’re almost done packing up the stemware—only a couple more boxes at most. I can come up after I take them down to the cellar and start a load of linens.” She turns to me. “If you don’t mind switching out the wash, I’ll fold them after dinner.”

“No,you won’t,” Jasper rebuffs. “You will let Sophie do her job, and you will do yours. Let’s go.” There’s something inhumane about the way my brother is staring at Natalie. Like she’s not a person, but an object. Like she’s not his wife, but his servant.

It takes me a moment to place where I’ve seen this expression before, but then I recall my many years in New York food service, particularly the smug faces of men who chose to use their influence to degrade an underpaid server for a simple mistake. A wrong dish or drink refill—or heaven forbid, a smaller portion size than they deemed appropriate for the price—could set them off and result in the humiliation of a coworker.

I step up to Natalie’s side. “She said she’ll be up after she’s finished.”

His warning glare drags back to me. “This doesn’t involve you.”

It’s a command, yet he has no authority over me.

“Actually, it does.” I raise my arms and make a show of looking around. “According to the bylaws within our family trust, this entire property and the work it involves is as much mine as it is yours.” I hope my expression looks as gritty as it feels. “You might be the operations manager and one ofthreetrustees, but unless I commit a felony, forfeit my share, or am unanimously voted out, your authority over me is a moot point. And as a family member and cherished employee, the same rules and protections are true for your wife.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I finally took your advice and brushed up on the business side of things around here. Made for some pretty boring bedtime reading this last week, but quite informative all the same.”

But instead of the united front I’m anticipating from Natalie, there’s terror in her eyes when her gaze cuts from me to Jasper. The silence that follows pricks my fear.

Natalie grips the storage box on the counter and moves toward the door with it in her hands. “How ’bout I run this next door to the cellar and then I’ll be right up? You’re right, honey, Sophie can manage the rest of this on her own without me.”

The cords in my brother’s neck constrict multiple times before he finally exhales. “Don’t be long.”

As soon as he exits the room, I start to speak again, but Natalie cuts me off with a single shake of her head. We wait until the last of his footsteps on the stairs fade and the door to his office slams closed.

Natalie starts for the outside door when I grab the storage container from her. “You’re not taking this down there. I can see you’re in pain.”

“What? No.” Her eyebrows scrunch in confusion as she keeps her voice low. “I know you haven’t been down to the cellar since...”

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