Chapter 9
Thomas wanted you to have the freedom to make your own choices.
He didn’t want you to live in fear of Benjamin’s future behavior.”
I looked at the envelope.
“And now?”
“Now, the condition has been met.”
Richard placed it in my hands.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a single page.
Thomas’s handwriting was unmistakable, each letter leaning slightly forward as though even his words were in a hurry.
My darling Ellie,
If Richard has given you this letter, then something has happened that I hoped you would never have to face.
I know you will want to defend Benjamin.
You have done so all your life, and I have loved you for the tenderness that makes you his mother.
But tenderness without boundaries can become a prison.
I stopped reading.
The room blurred.
Thomas had never been a man who wasted words.
He could be stubborn, practical, and occasionally infuriating.
But when he wrote something down, he meant it.
I continued.
I have made arrangements to protect you.
The money is yours to use for your comfort, your health, your home, and your happiness.
You do not owe anyone an explanation for how you choose to spend it.
If Benjamin needs help, help him only when you can do so without sacrificing your own security or dignity.
If he loves you, he will understand.
If he does not, then you must finally understand him.
I am sorry I cannot be there to hold your hand when you read this.
I love you beyond the end of my days.
Thomas.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
For a moment, I could almost hear his voice in the room, the warm, slightly amused tone he used whenever he caught me worrying about something that had not yet happened.
I had spent years trying to fulfill promises Thomas never asked me to make.
I had believed that a good mother kept giving.
I had forgotten that a good mother could also say no.
When I lowered the letter, Benjamin was watching me.
“Mom,” he said softly, “Dad didn’t understand everything.”
I folded the paper.
“Perhaps not.”
“He wasn’t dealing with the pressures I deal with.”
“Perhaps.”
“You have no idea what it’s like trying to keep a family afloat.”
I looked at the statement on the table.
“Ninety-three thousand six hundred dollars, Benjamin.
That’s what I contributed this year.
And that doesn’t include the groceries, the gifts, the school clothes, or the countless times I watched Lily while you worked.”