Chapter 19 - The House With Two Keys
"I don't know," I told him. "And I'm not going to promise an answer just because you finally asked."
Daniel looked down at Alma's drawing. "That's fair."
By the time Nicolás was strong enough to come home, weeks had passed. His discharge required careful planning and follow-up appointments. I had learned to recognize his sleepy expressions, his stubborn little hands, and the way he settled when I spoke to him. I'd learned to ask nurses questions without apologizing for taking their time.
Ruth helped me move into a rented duplex with a small patch of grass out front. Its windows didn't match, and the dishwasher made a terrible grinding noise. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever lived because every room belonged to the people who would sleep there.
Alma chose the bedroom nearest mine. She hung her sea-turtle drawings above the desk and declared that nobody would call her lazy for reading after dinner. I agreed without negotiation.
Daniel rented a place nearby. He attended counseling, contributed to the children's care, and came to agreed-upon visits. We started discussing parenting schedules through a mediator. Some days conversation was easy. Others, the silence between us was still full of the old house.
Beatriz was no longer welcome at our door. The court orders remained in place. Investigators had referred the questionable signatures and her conduct for further review; no one promised me a particular outcome, and I had stopped measuring justice only by how harsh the ending looked.
On Nicolás's first afternoon home, rain tapped the kitchen window. I laid him in his bassinet while Alma warmed a blanket in her hands.
A letter arrived with the afternoon mail. It was from Beatriz, sent through her attorney. I put it on the counter unopened until the children were asleep.
May you like
Then I sat at my own table, slipped a finger beneath the flap, and read the first line.
I HEARD YOU CALLING THAT MORNING.
