Chapter 9 - NOT LIKE US
Andrew stopped asking whether Lucinda deserved forgiveness.
The question had become too simple.
He asked something harder.
What did Alex need?
The answer changed day by day.
Some mornings he wanted Elizabeth.
Some evenings he wanted Andrew.
Sometimes he carried the stuffed rabbit everywhere.
Sometimes he left it beneath the sofa and forgot it.
Then, one rainy afternoon, Alex asked:
“Aunt Lucy sad?”
Andrew looked up from the kitchen table.
“Probably.”
“Because me?”
“No.”
Andrew answered immediately.
“Because of choices she made.”
Alex thought.
“Me mad.”
“That’s okay.”
“Me love her.”
Andrew felt the old Caruso instinct rise.
The need to explain.
Correct.
Resolve.
Instead he said:
“That’s okay too.”
Alex looked relieved.
Children understood complexity before adults taught them to fear it.
A week later, Alex asked to see Lucinda.
Andrew arranged it at the white house.
Not the estate.
Not the conservatory.
Neutral ground.
Lucinda arrived without gifts.
Good.
She stopped in the doorway when she saw Alex.
The boy held the rabbit.
The new green ribbon had been tied around its neck.
Lucinda looked at it.
Her eyes filled.
She crouched several feet away.
“Hi, Alex.”
He stared.
Then:
“You cut Mom ribbon.”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
“Yes.”
“You scared me.”
Lucinda’s voice broke.
“Yes.”
Alex tightened his arms around the rabbit.
“Mommy fell.”
Lucinda nodded.
“Yes.”
“You pulled.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Andrew watched.
No corrections.
No softer language.
Then Alex said:
“Mommy saved you.”
Lucinda started crying.
“Yes.”
Alex frowned.
“Why you mean after?”
The question seemed to destroy whatever defenses remained.
Lucinda covered her mouth.
When she answered, her voice was barely there.
“Because I was scared your daddy would hate me.”
Alex thought.
“You made me scared.”
“Yes.”
“That not fair.”
“No.”
Lucinda lowered her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
Alex did not hug her.
He walked back to Andrew.
The meeting ended ten minutes later.
That was enough.
Months passed.
Lucinda saw Alex occasionally.
Always when he agreed.
Never alone.
Some meetings were warm.
Some awkward.
Once he refused to come downstairs at all.
Lucinda went home.
No guilt placed on the child.
Andrew eventually returned to the estate part-time for work.
He did not move Alex back.
The white house Claire chose became permanent.
Andrew bought it later.
Not because buildings healed anything.
Because Alex liked the backyard.
Elizabeth liked the sunlight.
Andrew liked coming home without passing a family council room.
One evening Michael visited.
He found Andrew cooking badly while Alex laughed at him.
The sight would once have embarrassed Andrew.
Now he laughed too.
Michael leaned against the kitchen door.
“Claire won.”
Andrew looked over.
“No.”
Michael frowned.
Andrew continued.
“She wasn’t fighting me.”
That distinction mattered.
Then Michael handed him something.
Claire’s wedding ring.
Andrew stared.
“I thought this was buried with her.”
“So did I.”
Michael had found it in an old envelope inside Lucinda’s private safe after she asked him to clear the estate apartment.
Inside the ring was a folded scrap of paper.
Claire’s handwriting.
Andrew opened it.
One sentence.
If he thinks I’m leaving him, tell him I was waiting for him to choose us.
Andrew sat down.
Alex climbed into the chair beside him.
“What?”
Andrew showed him the ring.
“Mom’s.”
Alex touched it gently.
Then Andrew noticed another line on the back of the paper.
Smaller.
Almost hidden along the fold.
If I don’t get the chance, Elizabeth knows where I put the last recording.
Andrew looked sharply toward the hallway.
Elizabeth had just entered.
Her face changed when she saw the note.
Andrew stared at her.
“You knew there was another recording.”
Elizabeth stopped.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her answer came quietly.
“Because Claire told me not to give it to you until you stopped asking who killed her.”
Andrew went still.
May you like
Elizabeth looked toward Alex.
“She said the last message was for the day you finally started asking how to keep him from becoming the next person in this family who mistakes fear for love.”
