Chapter 17 - The First New Pillow
I did something Mom would have hated.
I bought a bright yellow couch pillow.
Modern.
Geometric.
Nothing handmade.
I placed it beside her restored heron pillow.
Ethan arrived Saturday afternoon.
He stared.
“Whoa.”
“Careful.”
“What?”
“That sounded judgmental.”
“It is aggressive.”
I laughed.
He smiled.
“Good.”
We spent weekend at Blue Heron together.
First since case.
No party.
No therapy agenda.
We grilled.
Walked.
Fixed dock light.
At dinner Ethan asked:
“Do you want children?”
We had been married six years and delayed because career.
Rose crisis had made future questions unavoidable.
“I thought we were talking later.”
“We are later.”
I looked at lake.
“Yes.”
“Still with me?”
“That’s rude.”
“Accurate?”
I sighed.
“I’m still deciding whether I trust us.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
No pressure.
Good.
Then:
“I want kids if we can build family where no doesn’t need a court order.”
That sentence sat between us.
Ethan reached across table.
I let him hold my hand.
No promise.
Enough.
Judith visited Blue Heron months later.
Only after asking.
She stood at front door.
“May I come in?”
It almost felt theatrical.
I answered:
“Yes.”
She brought nothing.
No gifts.
No Rose news.
We drank tea.
She saw Mom’s letter framed? I would not frame private letter. Keep stored. She saw yellow pillow.
“Joanne would hate that.”
I laughed.
“She would.”
Judith looked around.
“I’m sorry I ever spoke about this place like Ethan should own it.”
“Thank you.”
“I think I resented that Joanne gave you something I never gave my children.”
“What?”
“A place that was simply theirs.”
Interesting.
Judith and late husband had always kept family assets under parental control.
Ethan and Rose depended.
Maybe entitlement was sibling response to lack of secure ownership.
Again.
Explanation.
Not excuse.
“I’m changing my estate plan,” Judith said.
“You don’t need tell me.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“For once.”
Progress.
Then she asked:
“Will Rose ever come here again?”
“No.”
She flinched.
“Ever?”
“I don’t know what I’ll feel in twenty years. Current answer is no.”
Judith nodded.
May you like
“I won’t ask again.”
She kept promise.
