Chương 8
Then another.
Then six more over the following months.
My mother had been trying to find me.
Not openly.
Not effectively.
But she had been trying.
A strange pressure built behind my ribs.
I had survived twenty-one years with one version of the past.
I was not sure I wanted a new one.
Julian sat beside me.
“Aunt Elise.”
I held up one hand.
He stopped.
I turned the final page over.
There was writing on the back.
One line.
If she comes home now, he will punish her for proving she can.
I looked at my father.
He stared at the floor.
And suddenly the question was no longer whether my mother had tried to find me.
It was what she had learned about the man waiting for me if I ever returned.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The city beyond the windows went on blinking red and white through the glass.
My father sat with his hands clasped loosely between his knees.
The posture was almost casual.
It was also the posture he used when he had decided silence was more useful than denial.
“What did she mean?” I asked.
Conrad looked at the handwritten line in my hand.
“You are asking me to interpret your mother’s private fears.”
“I am asking what she believed would happen.”
“She believed many things.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
Damian turned from the window.
“You told her Elise would fail.”
Conrad said nothing.
“You told all of us that.”
Still nothing.
Damian stepped closer.
“Every Christmas, every birthday, whenever Mom asked whether anyone had heard from Elise, you said she was proving a point and would come back when she got tired of pretending.”
I looked at him.
“You talked about me?”
His face tightened.
“More than you think.”
A strange heat moved behind my eyes.
I looked away before it became visible.
Mara sat down on the arm of the sofa.
Julian rubbed his palms together slowly.
Nobody seemed certain where to put themselves now.
That made five of us.
Damian continued.
“Mom started asking questions after a couple of years.”
“What kind?”
“Whether you had money.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Whether you were safe.”
My father exhaled.
“Your mother worried professionally.”
Julian frowned.
“What does that even mean?”
“She worried about everything.”
“So you lied to calm her down?”
Conrad looked at him.
“I did what was necessary to keep this family functioning.”
Julian gave a short laugh.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The sentence you use when you don’t want to say what you actually did.”
Conrad’s jaw tightened.
Mara touched Julian’s shoulder.
He was breathing too fast.
I recognized the beginning of a fight becoming about more than the words in front of us.
“Julian.”
He looked at me.
“Go downstairs.”
His expression hardened.
“No.”
“This is your wedding.”
“And this is why I invited you.”
That landed harder than I expected.
I set the papers down.
“You invited me to confront them.”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“Julian.”
“I wanted you to see the documents.”
“At your reception.”
“I didn’t know when else you would come.”
Mara looked at him.
He stared at the carpet.
There was the truth beneath all the others.
My nephew had not trusted that I would answer a second invitation.
He had built the only opportunity he thought he had.
I felt anger rise, then stall against something softer.
“That was unfair.”
“I know.”
“To me and to Mara.”
“I know.”
“To yourself.”
His mouth tightened.
“I know that too.”
Mara slid her hand into his.
“You could have told me that part.”
“I thought I did.”
“You said you wanted your aunt here because you missed her.”
“I do.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
He looked at her helplessly.
“I’m running out of better words.”
For the first time since we entered the suite, Conrad looked almost impatient with something ordinary rather than dangerous.
“Can we return to the matter at hand?”
Mara stared at him.
“This is the matter at hand.”
He frowned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
She stood.
“My husband used our wedding to force a family confrontation because apparently nobody in this family knows how to ask for something directly.”
Julian winced.
“That sounds bad when you say it like that.”
“It was bad when you did it.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
I watched them.
The argument was small compared with the documents on the table.
That did not make it unimportant.
Real damage rarely waited its turn politely.
“Mara is right,” I said.
Julian looked at me.
“I should not have been brought here under false pretenses.”
“It wasn’t false.”
“It was incomplete.”
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
This time I believed he meant it.
I did not tell him it was fine.
It was not.
“I accept the apology.”
His shoulders loosened slightly.
“Now go downstairs.”
“No.”
Mara turned to him.
“Yes.”
He stared at her.
She lifted one eyebrow.
“You owe me one dance before our guests decide we fled the country.”
“We’re in the middle of this.”
“And it will still be here in twenty minutes.”
My father opened his mouth.
Mara pointed at him.
“You definitely will.”
Conrad looked offended enough that I nearly laughed.
Julian did.
A real laugh this time, brief and surprised.
Then he covered his face with both hands.
“This family is insane.”
Damian muttered, “That diagnosis is not new.”
Julian lowered his hands.
He looked at me.
“You’ll stay?”
“For twenty minutes?”
“For the rest of the reception.”
The question underneath it was larger.
I looked at him for a moment.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Mara kissed his cheek.
“Come on.”
They moved toward the door.
Before leaving, Mara turned back.
“Please don’t destroy each other before the cake cutting.”
“No promises,” Damian said.
She pointed at him too.
“I mean it.”
Then they were gone.
The suite became quieter.
May you like
Three Vosses remained.
For the first time in twenty-one years, there was no younger generation between us.
