After Anna(19)

‘Oh, I’m sure. Every time I feel good about myself, if I go on Facebook I feel instantly inferior.’

Ellen chuckled. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m talking about, and you’re an adult, your personality fully formed. But imagine if it isn’t yet, and that’s doubly true for girls, who get the societal message that physical appearance is paramount. I helped write the school policy regarding posting, which is admittedly strict. Congreve privileges face-to-face interactions over virtual ones.’

‘Sounds like we’re on the same page.’

‘But, to return to the point, you should note that Anna is mourning her father, as well as the loss of the fantasy of her father. And she’s conflicted and angry because it doesn’t square with what she has, or had.’

‘I understand.’

‘She held out hope that someday he would realize that she was wonderful and be a true father to her.’ Ellen paused. ‘I never saw that happening. I reached out to him several times, and he never responded.’

Maggie felt even more angry at Florian, if that were possible. If he hadn’t been dead already, she would have killed him.

‘So her mourning and her grief are complicated.’

Maggie remembered Anna telling her that at dinner. ‘Do you worry that she’s suicidal? Because that concerns me.’

‘No, I don’t. She has never had suicidal ideation.’

‘That’s a relief.’

‘Anna does have abandonment issues. She felt abandoned by you, her father, and her grandparents.’ Ellen frowned. ‘My work with her has been to help her not blame herself. It’s deleterious for her self-esteem.’

‘I feel terrible for her. It’s just so sad. How can I help her?’

‘I think it’s important for you and your husband to demonstrate that you are there for her. She will expect you to leave her, let her down, or disappoint her.’

‘I would never do that.’

‘You can earn her trust and love bit by bit, day by day. I’m optimistic.’

‘Me too.’ Maggie knew she could turn it around. She owed it to Anna. She would make it her mission.

‘So.’ Ellen checked her watch, then rose. ‘I’m afraid I’m late. Feel free to call me anytime. I told Anna the same thing.’

‘Don’t you want to say good-bye to her?’ Maggie stood up and got her purse. ‘We can swing by tomorrow morning before we fly home.’

‘No, we said our good-byes.’ Ellen’s eyes twinkled. ‘Your response is exactly the one we hoped for, now that the abuse allegations have been debunked. By the way, Anna has no recollection of any abuse by you.’

‘What does she remember?’ Maggie asked, her curiosity piqued. ‘Can a child even have memories from infancy?’

‘Not often, but her sense memories are happy ones, and her recollection is feeling loved and safe with you.’

‘How great!’ Maggie felt a warm rush of happiness.

‘Tell her to stay in touch. She’s a lovely girl, your daughter.’

Your daughter. Maggie hadn’t heard those words in such a long time. ‘So she had this planned?’

‘Not a plan, a dream.’

‘Of mine, too,’ Maggie said, thrilled.





Chapter Thirteen


Noah, After

TRIAL, DAY 4

‘Hi,’ Noah said, as Thomas entered the attorney’s conference room carrying a brown bag that filled the air with the aroma of French fries.

‘You’re about to have the best cheesesteak in the jurisdiction.’ Thomas set the bag on the table and unpacked Cokes, French fries, and cheesesteaks wrapped in greasy waxed paper.

‘Thanks.’ Noah slid his share over and unwrapped the warm sandwich with his free hand, since the other one was handcuffed to his stainless-steel chair, which was bolted to the floor, like the table. The attorneys’ conference room was a secured room near the courtroom, where they went for breaks or lunch, usually shorter than bullpen stays.

‘Where do you stand on the best cheesesteak in town?’ Thomas sat down and opened the cheesesteak, releasing a steamy cloud. ‘Pat’s v. Geno’s?’

‘I’m a Geno’s guy. You?’

‘Pat’s.’

‘Tourist.’

‘Wannabe.’

‘Can we still be friends?’

‘We never were friends.’ Thomas smiled, taking the tinfoil top off the French fries. ‘Also Jim’s Steaks on South is awesome.’

‘Agree.’

‘And Sammy’s in West Philly, where the white people never go.’

‘I never go,’ Noah said, and they laughed.

Thomas slid his phone from his pocket, placed it on the table, and took a massive bite of his cheesesteak, tilting his head to the side, the way Noah’s father used to. It brought back a warm feeling that Noah hadn’t had in years. Jonah Alderman had been a bricklayer, a stoic Pennsylvania Dutchman. The only time Noah had seen him cry was with happiness, the day Noah graduated from college.

‘So how do you think it’s going?’ Noah took a bite of his sandwich, which tasted delicious.

‘It’s going,’ Thomas answered, chewing away.