Chapter 13 - SIX WEEKS OF PEACE
Six weeks can make you believe a storm is over.
Noah began smiling.
Anna began sleeping more than two hours at a time.
The dark circles under her eyes faded.
She started wearing the yellow dress she had stopped wearing during pregnancy because Mom once told her it made her look "desperate for attention."
The first morning she came downstairs wearing it, I stared.
"What?"
"You look beautiful."
She smiled.
Then she looked down.
"Your mother hated this dress."
"I know."
Anna's smile faded slightly.
"I almost threw it away."
I walked toward her.
"I'm glad you didn't."
So was I.
Every small thing Anna reclaimed reminded me how much she had surrendered to survive.
Her music in the kitchen.
Her photographs on the hallway table.
Her favorite mug.
Even the way she laughed.
One evening, I realized I had not heard that laugh in months before Mom left.
That frightened me more than anything.
Abuse had not only made Anna afraid.
It had slowly erased her.
Claire visited often.
Aunt Linda apologized.
Several relatives admitted they had believed Mom because she had spent years presenting herself as the family victim.
I did not demand apologies.
Neither did Anna.
We only asked for one thing.
No one was to give Mom information about us.
No photographs of Noah.
No updates.
No address details.
No schedules.
Most relatives agreed.
Then Aunt Linda called one Friday night.
"Your mother contacted me."
My stomach tightened.
"What does she want?"
"She says she's in therapy."
I said nothing.
"She says she wants to apologize."
"She can write a letter."
"She wants to see you."
"No."
Linda sighed.
"I understand."
Then she hesitated.
"She asked where Noah's pediatrician was."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"Did you tell her?"
"Of course not."
I thanked her.
Then I told Anna.
We updated the doctor's office.
We added another password.
We notified staff that nobody except Anna or me could receive appointment information.
For two more weeks, nothing happened.
Then at exactly 3:12 one morning, Noah's baby monitor lit up.
Movement detected.
I opened my eyes.
Anna was beside me.
The nursery was across the hall.
I reached for the monitor.
A figure stood beside Noah's crib.
For one second, my brain refused to understand what I was seeing.
Then the figure turned.
May you like
My mother looked directly into the nursery camera.
And she was holding my son.
