Chapter 8
We took the photograph in Rosa’s backyard.
Ivy insisted on joining us. Maya stood behind the camera and told a terrible joke just as she pressed the button.
In the picture, Nora was laughing.
I put a copy beside her bed and gave another to Rosa. Nora carried one in her school bag until the corners began to curl.
Spring came. Nora started at a new school with support from a counselor who knew some of what she had been through. I walked her to the classroom on the first day.
At the door, she stopped.
“What if the other kids ask where I was?”
“You can tell them what you want. You don’t owe anyone the whole story.”
“What if I want you to pick me up?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Actually here?”
“Yes. I’ll stand by the blue gate.”
I kept the promise. She saw me before I saw her and ran so fast her backpack bounced against her shoulders.
Ivy ran from her own classroom a moment later.
“Did you make a friend?” she asked.
“Two,” Nora said.
I felt something in my chest loosen.
The legal process took months. Vanessa’s actions were examined by the court, and the arrangements for Ivy’s contact with her remained supervised while the professionals involved assessed what was safe. Nora did not have to see Vanessa.
Ivy asked difficult questions.
“Is Mom a bad person?”
I sat with her on the porch.
“She did something very wrong and hurt Nora. She is responsible for that.”
“Can she still love me?”
“Yes. Loving someone does not excuse hurting another person.”
“Do I have to stop loving her?”
“No.”
Ivy leaned into me.
I hoped I had given her room to feel what she felt.
At one supervised visit, Vanessa gave Ivy a letter for me. The supervisor returned it to her and explained that adult messages should not be carried through a child.
I was grateful.
Later, a letter came through our lawyers instead. Vanessa wrote that she had feared I would leave if I learned I had another daughter. She wrote that when she brought Nora home, she meant to tell me after a few days.
The days became weeks.
She admitted she had let Ivy see Nora and then warned both girls not to speak. She wrote that she was sorry.
I read the letter once and put it away.
I did not know whether her remorse would lead to change. The court would decide the consequences of her actions. My task was to care for the girls in front of me.
Nora’s counselor helped her make a memory box for Grace. Rosa gave her a scarf that smelled faintly of the lavender soap Grace liked. I found a copy of the photograph from the county fair and placed it inside.
Nora studied my face in the picture.
“You were happy with Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you stop seeing her?”
“We were young and had trouble telling each other what we needed. I moved away before she knew about you.”
“She tried to tell you later.”
“She did. I’m sorry I didn’t find out.”
Nora placed the photograph beside her mother’s scarf.
“She wanted me to meet you.”
“I wish I could tell her you have.”
“Maybe she knows,” Nora said.
I did not try to answer what I could not know.
I held her until she was ready to close the box.
That night, Rosa asked if she could speak with me alone.
“I’ve watched you with Nora,” she said. “I think she’s ready to spend more time here. I want you to know I’m not afraid you’ll take her away from me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know. I needed to say it anyway.”
“I need her to have you. You’re the person who loved her through all the years I missed.”
Rosa’s eyes filled.
“Then we’ll keep raising her together.”
May you like
It was the first time she had used those words.
Our family was not shaped the way anyone expected. For once, that did not frighten me.
