Chapter 18
“You knew he planned to leave?”
“I knew he was frightened.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I agreed to help him.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because my father found out.”
The next page had been torn out.
Only a ragged strip remained near the binding.
My heart sank.
“There are pages missing.”
“I know.”
“Who tore them out?”
“I don’t know.”
I turned the notebook upside down, searching the back pocket.
A folded piece of paper slipped free and landed on the desk.
My mother’s handwriting covered the front.
*Naomi is too young.
If I tell her now, she may repeat it.
If I wait, I may lose the chance.*
Inside was a letter addressed to me.
I unfolded it with both hands.
*Nomi,*
*If you are reading this, then I failed to tell you the truth while I had the courage to do it.
Your father did not leave because he stopped loving us.
He left because he believed the people around him were becoming dangerous.*
*He asked me to take you away.
I promised I would.*
*I did not know that leaving would make them watch us more closely.
I did not know who could be trusted.
Dominic tried to help, but he was young and frightened, and his father had already taught him that obedience was safer than honesty.*
*I cannot blame him for being a child in a house built by adults who should have known better.*
*The money I received was not payment.
It was a warning.
I took it because I needed to move us before they found where we were going.*
*Your father asked me to meet him at the Lakeshore Hotel.
He said he had made arrangements to leave the city.
I went to room 217, but he was gone before I arrived.*
*I found only the notebook and a message telling me to take you and disappear.*
*I have spent years believing that if I stayed silent, I could keep you safe.
Perhaps I was wrong.
Perhaps silence only teaches fear to grow.*
*Your father loved you.
He wanted you to know that.*
*So do I.*
*Love, Mom*
The letter slipped from my hands.
I didn’t cry immediately.
The truth was too large for tears.
It moved through me as a series of small, painful recognitions: my father had not left because of me; my mother had not been protecting a betrayal; and the silence that had shaped my childhood had begun with fear, not indifference.