“This isn’t the time to make emotional choices.”
Then he laughed softly. “She was sick.”
“She was scared.”
“Of me?”
“You tell me.”
He glanced toward the relatives in the living room, then lowered his voice.
“Leave old pain buried, Fiona.”
“She was sick.”
The next morning, I made beef stew because it was the only meal I knew I wouldn’t ruin. I put it in one of Mom’s plastic containers and drove back to my mother’s house.
The first thing I noticed was that Victor’s shelter was empty.
The blanket was folded. The coffee cans were gone. Even the stack of firewood had been lined up neatly.
“Victor?” I called.
“Fiona.”
I turned.
I noticed was that Victor’s shelter was empty.
Victor stood near the back steps in a clean, dark coat. Beside him was a black SUV I didn’t recognize.
My stomach dropped. “Whose car is that?”
Mrs. Bell stepped out of the driver’s side before he could answer.
“Borrowed from my nephew,” she said. “Victor wanted to say goodbye to your mother without Mark making a scene. We went to her grave.”
I looked at Victor’s coat.
“Whose car is that?”
He touched the sleeve, embarrassed. “Borrowed too.”
Then I saw the locket in his hand.
“Where did you get my mother’s necklace? I know it from photos.”
His thumb moved over the dented silver edge. “Stephanie gave it to me.”
“That locket was lost.”
“No,” Victor said. “She told you it was.”
“Stephanie gave it to me.”
My chest tightened. “Why would my mother give you her locket?”
“Because I gave it to her first.”
I stared at him. “When?”
“When she was ten, I think. Maybe younger,” he said. “She had a bad day. I told her if she wore it, she could pretend I was walking beside her.”
Mrs. Bell lowered her eyes.
“I gave it to her first.”
Victor opened the locket.
Inside was a faded picture of two kids on porch steps, his arm around her shoulders.
On the back, scratched in childish handwriting, were three words.
“My safe place.”
My throat went dry. “That’s Mom?”
Victor nodded.
“And the boy is you?”
“My safe place.”
“Yes.”
I stepped back. “No. Mom only had one brother.”
“Mark was the youngest.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“If you were her brother,” I said, my voice rising, “why did she make you live outside?”
Victor flinched.
“Mom only had one brother.”
Mrs. Bell answered before he could.
“Because Mark scared her.”
I turned to her. “Scared her how?”
“He told Stephanie people would call her unfit if she let Victor near you. She was poor, single, and terrified.”
Victor closed the locket. “She let me stay close. That was all she thought she could risk. I wasn’t easy to help, Fiona. But your mother never stopped trying.”
“Scared her how?”
My mind went straight to Mom’s hospital room.
“The blue box,” I whispered.
Victor looked up. “She told you?”
“She said not to let Mark touch it.”
Mrs. Bell pointed toward the house. “Then stop standing here.”
***
I ran inside and tore through Mom’s closet until I found it under old blankets.
My name was written across the lid.
