Chapter 13 - Linda’s Choice
Linda came alone.
No lawyer.
That made Julia nervous.
We met in a hotel lounge with my attorney nearby but not at table after Linda agreed nothing was confidential.
She looked older than fifty-eight.
Not fragile.
Just tired.
“I left Richard.”
I stared.
“Temporarily?”
“I don’t know.”
That was not why I came.
Still.
“Why?”
“Because he still says he did what was best.”
“And you?”
Linda looked down.
“I did what was easiest.”
More honest.
Then she told me the day I had never fully known.
After Dr. Grant removed them from Room 314, Linda vomited in hospital restroom.
She called her sister.
Said:
“I can’t do this.”
Her sister told her:
“You have two daughters.”
Linda answered:
“I know. That’s the problem.”
The words made my skin crawl.
Linda explained her brother’s cancer death had consumed her childhood.
Her mother slept at hospital.
Her father stopped working.
Bills.
Fights.
All attention moved toward sick child.
When her brother died, Linda felt guilty because part of her had been relieved.
Then I got leukemia.
“I became twelve again.”
I said:
“You were forty-three.”
“Yes.”
Fear explains age regression.
Not choices.
Then Richard presented solution.
Temporary medical placement.
State support.
Protect Allison’s school year.
“We told ourselves it was for months.”
“What changed?”
“You loved Rachel.”
“That made leaving easier.”
“Yes.”
Then Linda admitted she attended fewer visits because I stopped begging her to come.
That sentence was brutal.
“You needed me less.”
“So you came less.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“I hated Rachel.”
“Why?”
“She could sit beside you without panicking.”
Not because Rachel stole me.
Because Rachel could do what Linda could not.
Then trust money.
“Did you know Dad moved it before cancer?”
“Yes.”
“Did you agree?”
“I said it wasn’t fair.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then when I got sick?”
“I told him to put it back.”
That surprised me.
“He refused?”
“He said Allison’s deposit cycle had started and pulling money would damage everything.”
“And you accepted.”
“Yes.”
Then final withdrawal after adoption.
“I didn’t know until investigation now.”
Possible.
Richard handled finances.
Then letters from Allison.
“Why didn’t you send them?”
Linda cried.
“Because if you answered lovingly, I would have to explain why we were not visiting.”
There.
Self-protection.
Then her letter to Rachel years later.
“Why ask whether I was healthy?”
“Because I thought about you every day.”
“That did not help me.”
“I know.”
“Why tell Rachel continued separation was best?”
“Because contacting you would mean telling Richard I wanted back in your life.”
“So you chose marriage.”
“Yes.”
Again.
Choice.
Then she asked:
“Can I be your mother in any way?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She nodded.
Tears.
Then:
“Can I be Linda?”
“Maybe someday.”
That was more than I expected.
Then she gave me envelope.
“I found these after I left house.”
Allison’s original handwritten letters.
Linda had never destroyed them.
Sixteen-year-old handwriting.
Dear Hannah,
Mom says you’re mad at us. I’m mad too but I don’t know at who.
Another:
I got into Hawthorne Academy. I wanted to tell you first.
Another:
Dad says visiting makes treatment harder. Is that true?
No.
Then:
I miss playing cards even though you cheat.
I cried.
Rachel had taught me those cards in hospital.
Allison and I used to play before.
Then last:
Mom says you want Rachel to adopt you. If that makes you happy, I’ll stop bothering you. I just want you to know I didn't want you to go.
I put letter down.
For fifteen years, I had thought nobody in that house wanted me.
One person had.
She had simply been a child too.
Then Linda said:
“I’m sorry.”
Not enough.
But true.
Before leaving, she added:
“Richard is going to fight the trust case.”
“I know.”
“He says settling will make him look guilty.”
“He is worried about status.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“But he is more afraid of one thing.”
“What?”
“Dorothy’s replacement-custodian form.”
Why?
Because if the bank formally concluded it should have removed him fifteen years ago, the record would show his own mother had anticipated he might favor Allison over me.
That was the family story Richard could not control.
Not cancer.
May you like
Not military success.
His mother had known who he was before I did.
