Chapter 13 - Ava Comes to Thanksgiving
One year later, I did not return to Eleanor’s mansion.
It was empty.
The sale was pending.
Instead, Thanksgiving happened at my house.
Small table.
No chandelier.
Emma insisted on paper turkey decorations.
Ava came.
So did Margaret.
Mark attended after asking permission.
Jennifer did not.
She said she wasn’t ready.
For once, that was probably wise.
Eleanor was not invited.
That decision hurt me.
Still correct.
Ava arrived early with apple pie.
Emma opened the door.
For several seconds, they stared at each other.
Same green eyes.
Same crooked smile.
Emma whispered:
“You look like the photo.”
Ava laughed.
“So do you.”
Then Emma asked:
“Are you my grandma?”
Ava looked at me.
I nodded.
“If you want me to be,” Ava said.
Emma considered.
“Okay.”
Children occasionally solve identity questions more intelligently than adults.
Dinner was awkward at first.
Mark overcompensated by being nice.
Emma noticed.
“Uncle Mark, why are you talking weird?”
I nearly choked.
Ava laughed.
Mark relaxed.
Good.
Then dessert arrived.
Ava placed something beside Emma’s plate.
A cream-colored envelope.
Every adult froze.
Emma looked around.
“What?”
I laughed.
“Maybe we should stop using those.”
Inside was not another secret.
It was a letter Grace had written to Emma.
To be given when Ava believed she was old enough to hear a simple version.
Emma was seven.
Ava read only one paragraph.
My little star,
If you are reading this, I couldn't stay as long as I wanted. That is not because I wanted to leave you.
Emma leaned against me.
Grace continued:
I chose Rachel because I thought she would love you when loving you was inconvenient.
I cried.
Ava did too.
Mark looked away.
Then Emma asked:
“Did she know you were my aunt?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
“So you were already family.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did everybody make it so complicated?”
No adult at the table had a satisfactory answer.
Later, after Emma slept, Ava told me something she had withheld.
Grace had met Eleanor once.
My mother.
Emma’s great-grandmother.
Three months before Grace died.
I stared.
“What?”
Grace approached Eleanor privately.
She told her she was Ava’s daughter.
Eleanor did not believe her.
Grace showed photographs.
Eleanor accused her of wanting money.
Then Grace said she was pregnant.
Eleanor told her:
“Do not bring another Bell child into my life.”
I felt sick.
That explained Grace’s fear.
That explained why she insisted on confidential adoption preferences.
Eleanor had rejected Emma before Emma was born.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Ava said:
“Because I wanted to know whether Eleanor would eventually tell you herself.”
She hadn’t.
Another withheld truth.
I was furious with Ava too.
“Stop testing people with secrets.”
She accepted that.
Then Ava gave me a recording.
Grace had recorded part of the meeting.
Eleanor’s voice was unmistakable.
Then another voice appeared.
Male.
My father, Henry.
He had been there.
He told Eleanor:
“If Grace’s child needs Rachel, you will not interfere.”
My father knew Emma might come to me.
Before he died.
Had he helped arrange the adoption?
Ava said no.
He died six months before Emma was born.
But he left instructions with his attorney.
If Grace requested family support, Rachel was to be told the truth.
The attorney never did.
Why?
Name:
Charles Wynn.
May you like
Our longtime family attorney.
The same man still advising Eleanor.
