Chapter 3 - Ethan Had Died In That Bedroom
Ethan died eleven days before the funeral.
At first, everyone called it a terrible accident.
Six weeks earlier, Grant had renovated Ethan’s bedroom.
Our son loved boats, so Grant surprised him with what he called a “captain’s room.”
Built-in bookshelves.
A little reading bench beneath the window.
Navy trim.
Brass drawer pulls.
And because that side of the old house was always cold in winter, a slim gas wall heater was installed inside the exterior wall.
I hated that heater from the beginning.
“Why gas?” I asked.
Grant said the contractor recommended it.
“It’s safe.”
“Was it permitted?”
“Yes.”
I believed him.
Three weeks later, Ethan started complaining about headaches in the mornings.
Then nausea.
Then unusual sleepiness.
His pediatrician initially suspected a virus because several children at preschool had been sick.
The symptoms came and went.
Ethan usually seemed better after breakfast or after spending the day outside the house.
That detail would haunt me later.
The night he died, I put him to bed at eight-thirty.
He asked for the hallway light left on.
Grant checked the heater because the temperature had dropped.
I kissed Ethan twice.
The second time because he grabbed my sleeve and said:
“Again.”
The next morning, he did not wake up.
I found him.
There are parts of that morning I still cannot describe.
The ambulance.
Grant pulling me backward.
The paramedics.
Someone taking me downstairs.
The sound I made when a doctor at the hospital told us Ethan was gone.
Initial testing showed carbon monoxide exposure.
The heater became the obvious source.
Grant told me an internal component must have failed.
He said older houses sometimes created unpredictable venting problems.
I asked whether the installation had been inspected.
He told me yes.
Then he took over everything.
Insurance.
Contractors.
Investigators.
The funeral.
I let him.
I was not functioning.
I could barely remember to eat.
If Grant said paperwork was handled, I believed him.
May you like
Then I learned he wanted the room demolished.
And for the first time since Ethan died, grief moved aside long enough for suspicion to breathe.
