Chapter 11 - Susan Told Camille What She Feared
Susan came to the estate without Eli.
She wanted to meet Camille before the teenagers met one another.
Harper secretly thought that sounded backwards until she saw them face each other.
Two mothers.
One son.
Fifteen years of silence between them.
Susan brought the blanket.
White cotton.
Faded blue thread still knotted around one corner.
Camille began crying before Susan reached the sofa.
“I kept it,” Susan said quietly.
Camille touched the thread with one finger but did not take the blanket.
“Thank you.”
Susan sat.
For several seconds neither woman knew which pain had the right to speak first.
Then Susan said:
“I was afraid of you.”
Camille looked surprised.
“Roland told us you would come back unpredictably. He said grief made you obsessive. He said if we opened contact, you might try to take Eli without warning.”
Camille looked toward the floor.
“He made you afraid of me too.”
“Yes.”
Susan’s voice trembled.
“And I let him.”
There was responsibility in that sentence.
No excuses.
Susan had loved Eli completely.
She had also accepted an easy explanation because it protected the family she suddenly had.
“When your first letter came,” Susan said, “I should have called you directly.”
Camille nodded.
“Yes.”
Harper, listening from across the room, appreciated that her mother did not rush to absolve Susan merely because Roland was the bigger villain.
Pain could have multiple owners.
Susan continued.
“By the time I realized Roland might have lied, Eli was five. Then eight. Then twelve. Every year it became harder to tell him his adoption might have begun with coercion.”
Camille gave a broken little laugh.
“That sounds familiar.”
For the first time, both women understood one another.
Not as rivals.
As adults who had let fear turn one delayed truth into fifteen years.
Then Susan asked Camille something Harper did not expect.
“Do you want to be his mother?”
Camille was silent for a very long time.
Finally:
“I am his biological mother. But you raised him. I don’t get to walk in and take your word away from you.”
Susan’s eyes filled.
“What do you want, then?”
Camille looked toward Harper.
Then at the blanket.
“I want him to know he was wanted.”
That was smaller than reunion.
And therefore more trustworthy.
Susan nodded.
“He needs that.”
Then she smiled faintly.
“And he wants to meet Harper.”
Harper’s heart kicked.
“When?”
“Saturday.”
Three days.
May you like
Fifteen years apart.
Three days left.
