Chapter 9 - THE MOTHER I HAD BEEN MOURNING FOR TWENTY YEARS
I had spent twenty years believing my mother died when I was six.
Now Evelyn Costello was telling me she disappeared.
Alive.
Somewhere.
The room seemed to tilt.
"That's impossible."
Evelyn looked at me sadly.
"I know what you were told."
I shook my head.
"I went to her funeral."
"So did many people."
My hands began trembling.
"Then where is she?"
Evelyn lowered her eyes.
"I don't know."
Tears filled my eyes.
For twenty years, I'd carried the memory of my mother's funeral.
The black dress.
The cold church.
My father's trembling hands.
The way nobody would let me see her.
I had accepted it.
Because children believe adults when adults say someone is gone.
Now I understood how cruel that certainty could be.
Arthur watched me carefully.
"Norah."
I looked away.
"Please don't."
He nodded.
For once, he didn't try to comfort me with promises he couldn't keep.
Evelyn continued.
"Clara discovered Victor's financial scheme."
I swallowed.
"I know."
"She tried to report it."
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Then Victor threatened Arthur."
My stomach tightened.
"Why Arthur?"
Evelyn looked toward her son.
"Because Clara knew he would eventually inherit the family."
Arthur closed his eyes.
Evelyn continued.
"Victor wanted control."
My heart pounded.
"Then what happened to Mom?"
"She went into hiding."
I stared.
"Without me?"
Evelyn's eyes filled.
"She believed staying away would protect you."
I began crying.
For twenty years, I'd imagined my mother abandoned the world.
Now I was learning she'd been forced to abandon her daughter.
I couldn't decide which hurt more.
Then Evelyn reached for my hand.
"Norah, she wrote letters."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"To you."
I swallowed.
"Where are they?"
Evelyn looked toward Arthur.
"Your father's old study."
Arthur frowned.
"The estate?"
She nodded.
"Behind the bookcase."
My chest tightened.
Another hidden compartment.
Another secret buried in the mansion I'd spent years cleaning.
We returned to the estate.
Arthur's attorney and investigators helped preserve the discovered materials.
Behind the bookcase was a small metal box.
Inside were photographs.
Letters.
And a collection of cassette tapes.
One envelope carried my name.
For Norah, on her seventh birthday.
My hands trembled.
I opened it.
My beautiful girl,
I wish I could hold you today.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I hope Daddy made your favorite chocolate cake.
I covered my mouth.
He had.
Every year.
Even after Mom was gone.
I continued.
I know you may think I left because I didn't love you.
That is not true.
I loved you more than anything.
My shoulders shook.
I left because people threatened to hurt you if I stayed.
The letter ended with one sentence.
One day, I hope you will know I never stopped trying to come home.
I pressed it against my chest.
For several minutes, I couldn't speak.
Then Arthur's phone rang.
An investigator.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He looked toward me.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
"Norah."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
His voice trembled.
"They found a woman matching your mother's identity."
I stared.
"Where?"
"A residential clinic in Wisconsin."
My knees weakened.
"Is she alive?"
Arthur nodded slowly.
"Yes."
I covered my mouth.
May you like
Then he added something that made the world disappear.
"Norah, she's been asking for you every Christmas for twenty years."
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