Chapter 13
“A house?”
Mara's voice came through the room before I could find mine.
Mom sighed over the phone. “Yes.”
“What house?”
“Ruth's cottage.”
I looked at Mara. She looked equally confused. Aunt Ruth had lived in several places during my childhood. The house I remembered belonged to someone else now.
“I thought her house was sold after she died.” “Her city house was.” “So what cottage?”
Mom hesitated. “The one near Bellweather Lake.”
A memory surfaced slowly. Trees reflected in dark water. A screened porch. Blue drinking glasses. Mara and I catching fireflies in glass jars before Ruth made us release them.
“That place?” I asked. “You remember?” “Barely.” “I thought it belonged to a friend of hers.” “That was what Ruth told people.” “Why?” “Because she didn't want questions.”
Mara rubbed her forehead. “Apparently secrecy is our family hobby.”
Mom ignored that. “Ruth bought it after helping me leave my old relationship. She said everyone deserved one place where nobody required them to explain why they needed quiet.”
Something tightened in my chest.
“Why didn't we know?” “You were children.” “We aren't children now.” “No.”
Mom's voice carried regret. “And after Ruth died, I intended to tell you when you were older.”
May you like
“How much older?” Mara asked. “We're thirty-four and thirty-one.” “I noticed.” I closed my eyes. “Why didn't you?”
Mom gave the only answer that mattered. “I was afraid.”
