Part 15
Theo opened the door before she reached it.
“You’re late.”
“Seven minutes.”
“That’s late.”
“The rental car has a screen that kept telling me to turn into fields.”
“You should use Dad’s driver.”
“I’m trying to maintain dignity.”
“What’s dignity?”
“Something adults mention when they need a ride.”
Theo took her coat.
The lunch was simple by estate standards: soup, sandwiches, fruit, no staff in the room. Graham had instructed the kitchen to leave everything on the sideboard. He did not want Nora served under Eleanor’s rules.
Afterward, Theo took her upstairs.
Graham remained in the hall but did not follow. He heard Theo naming rooms, correcting her when she used old names, and explaining which floorboards creaked.
In his bedroom, he showed her the painted animals.
“You still have the green fox,” Nora said.
“You wrote about it.”
“I saw a picture.”
“Grandpa sent it?”
“Yes.”
Theo picked up the fox.
“Did Grandpa like you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Grandma didn’t.”
“No.”
“Did Dad?”
Nora glanced toward the open doorway where Graham stood beyond view.
“Sometimes.”
Theo accepted the answer.
He led her to the reading room last.
The torn-letter scene remained visible to Graham whenever he entered, though the carpet had been cleaned and the desk cleared. Theo stopped beside the place where the fragments had fallen.
“Grandma stood there,” he said, pointing to the doorway.
Nora looked toward it.
“What did the letter say?” Theo asked.
“The torn one?”
“Yes.”
“I have a copy.”
“Did you bring it?”
Nora opened her bag and removed a folded sheet.
Theo took it but did not read immediately.
“Why did you hide it in a book?”
“I thought your grandma might stop a normal letter.”
“So you tricked her.”
“Yes.”
“Is tricking okay?”
“Not usually.”
“But you did it.”
“I did.”
Theo looked at Graham, who had entered the room.
“Everybody lies when they’re scared.”
“Sometimes,” Graham said.
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“You said you finished your math worksheet last Tuesday.”
“That was different.”
“It usually feels different when we do it.”
Nora sat on the edge of a chair.
Theo unfolded the copied letter.
It described Nora’s apartment, a hawk she had seen near the river, and a book about a ship she thought Theo might like. Near the end, she had written that she hoped one day to tell him the truth about her absence without asking him to choose between loving her and loving the people who stayed.
Theo read that sentence aloud.
Then he looked toward the doorway.
“Can Grandma come here when she sees me?”
Graham understood why he had chosen the room. Theo wanted the adults placed where the damage happened.
“If Dr. Levin agrees,” Graham said.
Nora’s hands tightened.
“I can leave when she comes.”
“No,” Theo said. “You should both be here.”
“That may be too much for the first meeting,” Graham said.
Theo folded the letter.
“It was too much for me.”
No one had an answer.
The meeting with Eleanor took place two weeks later in Dr. Levin’s office.
Eleanor arrived early. She wore a dove-gray suit and carried a leather handbag on one arm. She had prepared herself for judgment the way she prepared for charity boards and funeral receptions: shoulders straight, expression calm, every visible detail under control.
When Theo entered, she stood.
He ran to her.
The embrace surprised everyone, including Eleanor. She closed both arms around him and lowered her face into his hair. For several seconds, the composure she had protected for months disappeared.
“I missed you,” Theo said.
Eleanor’s voice broke.
“I missed you too.”
Nora waited in another room. Graham had agreed with Dr. Levin that the first part should involve only Theo and Eleanor.
They sat on the sofa.
Eleanor brought no gifts, which Graham knew had required effort.
Theo held the rabbit between his knees.
“Dad says you lied.”
Eleanor looked at Graham.
“He has described my actions that way.”
“Did you?”
She turned back to Theo.
“I told you something I believed was true.”
“That Mommy didn’t want me?”
“I believed her choices showed that.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Eleanor’s fingers tightened around one another.
“Yes,” she said. “I told you something that was not true.”
“Why?”
“I was afraid she would hurt you again.”
“So you tore the letter.”
“I tried to take it. You held on.”
“Why didn’t you let me read it?”
“Because if you believed her, you might want her back.”
“I did want her back.”
Eleanor looked away.
“That frightened me.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought wanting her would make you unhappy.”
Theo rubbed the rabbit’s ear.
“I was already unhappy.”
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly.
“I know that now.”
“Did you keep all the letters?”
“Most of them.”
“Why?”
“I could not bring myself to destroy all of them.”
“Then you knew they mattered.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Did you hate Mommy?”
Eleanor took time to answer.
“I hated what happened when she was sick. I hated how frightened your father became. I hated that your grandfather believed he could fix things without asking me. After a while, I stopped separating those feelings from your mother.”
“That’s a lot of words.”
A faint, painful smile touched Eleanor’s mouth.
“Yes.”
“Did you hate me?”
“No.”
“Were you mad when I told Dad?”
“I was afraid.”
“At me?”
“At losing you.”
Theo looked toward Graham.
“Everybody says that.”
Dr. Levin spoke for the first time.
“What did you do with that fear, Mrs. Vale?”
Eleanor’s posture stiffened.
“I made decisions.”
“For whom?”
“My family.”
“Did they agree?”
“No.”
Theo lifted the rabbit.
“Mommy fixed the ear.”
Eleanor looked at the blue stitches.
“I see that.”
“She’s in the other room.”
Graham watched his mother’s face.
She had known Nora would be present in the building, but not that Theo might ask for contact.
“Do you want her to come in?” Eleanor asked.
Theo nodded.
Dr. Levin went to the door.
May you like
Nora entered slowly.
For the first time in four years, the two women faced each other.
