Chapter 21
“Nora.”
She turned.
“You frightened my daughter.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You need to understand that an apology doesn’t erase it.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She nodded.
“I wanted Marcus to understand that I wasn’t trying to harm him. I forgot that my urgency could feel threatening to someone else.”
The answer was not enough, but it was honest.
I glanced at the envelope on the porch.
“Why did you tell Emily my mother sent you?”
Nora’s face changed.
“I didn’t.”
“My daughter said you did.”
“I told her Lily’s grandmother had asked me to speak with Marcus.”
I stared at her.
“Lily’s grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“My mother’s name was Margaret.”
Nora’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t know.”
The confusion on her face seemed genuine.
“Lily’s grandmother is also named Margaret,” she said. “Margaret Bell. She lives in Ohio.”
For several seconds, I could not speak.
A simple misunderstanding.
A dead mother and a grieving grandmother, joined by one name.
The mystery had not vanished, but its sharpest edge had dulled.
Nora looked at the envelope again.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have been clearer.”
“And you should never have spoken to Emily alone.”
“Yes.”
The officer asked Nora to step toward the car.
She did.
I returned inside and closed the door.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I found Emily in the living room with Mrs. Alvarez. She was holding a mug of cocoa in both hands, though it was too warm for her to drink.
“Is she gone?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Was she mad?”
“No.”
“Did Dad forget something?”
I sat beside her.
“He forgot something important, but not because he meant to.”
“What?”
“A letter.”
“From Lily?”
I nodded.
“Was Lily his patient?”
“Yes.”
“Did she die?”
I took a breath.
“Yes.”
Emily lowered her eyes.
“Is that why Dad is sick?”
“No, sweetheart. Dad’s illness is in his spine. The sadness made things harder, but Lily’s death did not make him sick.”
“Did he try to save her?”
“He did everything he could.”
“Then why is he sad?”
“Because sometimes doing everything you can still doesn’t change what happens.”
Emily thought about this.
“Is he going to die tomorrow?”
The question was direct, age-appropriate, and devastating in its simplicity.
“No,” I said. “The doctors expect his surgery to help him. There are risks, like with any surgery, but he is in good hands.”
“Will he be able to use his hand?”