The Light Through the Leaves(11)

“I have forgiven you,” he replied. “And I have to forgive myself. Now I know how much I was to blame for what happened that day.”

“You could only forgive me when you discovered your part in it? Thank you, Jonah. Thank you for the unconditional support for the woman you married.”

She pushed past him and strode to the front door.

The boys stood like little soldiers as she entered. She suspected they’d been watching their parents argue from the window. The anxious looks on their faces, the damage already done, reminded her to be strong. If she left now, they could recover.

“Hey, guys,” Ellis said, stroking their hair as she often did.

“Hi, Mom,” Jasper said.

River said nothing, his lips pressed so tight they were nearly blue. He wouldn’t greet her because he was afraid he would cry.

She knelt to their eye level. “I’m going now. I want you to know I love you forever and ever. You know that, right? No matter where I am or where you are, I love you.”

“Where will you be?” Jasper asked.

“I’ll be in pretty places, getting better. And everything I look at will be for you. Every little flower and tree and bird. I’ll be sharing it all with you.”

“No you won’t,” River said bitterly. “Not if we aren’t there.”

“People who love each other can stay together in other ways. In their hearts.”

“A heart is just an ugly lump in our bodies. Grandma showed me the turkey’s heart before she cooked it for Thanksgiving.”

Ellis put her hand on River’s cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want to eat animals, say so.”

“I don’t eat animals,” Jasper said. “I didn’t want the turkey. I felt sorry for it.”

Ellis took him in her arms and held him tight. The sweet smell of him made her dizzy with need. Nothing had ever hurt as much. Might that ugly lump in her body stop beating?

“I love you more than anything,” she said into his ear.

“Me too,” he said.

When she pulled away from his arms, tears ran down his cheeks. River’s tears spilled, too, and he looked angry.

Ellis reached for him. He backed away.

“River, please let me hug you,” she said.

“No!” he shouted. “This is all just stupid! I hate you! I hate you!”

He ran away, his little feet pounding up the stairs.

He wanted to do the leaving. To take control as much as possible.

She understood. Oh, yes, she understood.

She put a kiss on her palm and placed it on Jasper’s wet cheek. “Forever and ever,” she said. And she walked out the door.





6


Ellis laid the package of butterscotch candies on Samuel Patrick Abbey’s grave. She didn’t put anything on his wife’s stone. She wouldn’t know what to bring her. As with her father, Ellis knew nothing about her grandmother. She’d died long before Ellis went to live with her grandfather at thirteen, and Samuel never talked about his wife. Other than one photograph of her on her wedding day, Margaret Anne Abbey, née Swanson, was thoroughly absent from the small apartment where Samuel had lived for the ten years since he’d become a widower.

Ellis wondered if she’d stop thinking about her children in ten years, if they would be as absent from her world as her grandmother had been for Samuel. It was probably different if the person you were separated from was still alive. Maybe that made it harder to let go.

But for all Ellis knew, Viola was already gone from the earth.

No, Ellis had to believe her daughter was alive. To keep the darkness from overcoming her. The baby was presumed to have been stolen by a woman—and naive or not, Ellis doubted a woman who wanted a baby would have motive to kill her.

A woman was the only lead the detectives had. A couple who’d been hiking saw a woman walking off-trail, and when she’d seen them looking at her, she’d quickly disappeared down a forested ravine. They had no description except that the woman was middle aged and had a blonde ponytail. The couple also said there was a blue sedan in the lot when they arrived, a car that wasn’t there when Ellis went back for Viola. Unfortunately, she had been too distracted to notice if the blue car was in the lot when she’d initially come out of the forest with the children.

Ellis took one of the candies out of the bag. She sucked on its buttery sweetness, remembering the day her grandfather had gotten her at the police station after her mother died. She hadn’t known anything about him; he’d parted ways with his rebellious daughter long before. Even in his seventies, he was robust, tall and unbent, a former construction worker, and all the more intimidating because he rarely talked. His first real communication with Ellis was handing her a butterscotch candy from his pocket as they left the police station.

During the five years Ellis lived with him, his candy offerings continued, a common communication between them. At first, Sam, as he asked her to call him, acted wary around her, often scrutinizing her silently, probably afraid she’d be like his daughter. But when he saw Ellis mostly kept to herself, did well in school, and helped clean the apartment, he gradually warmed. Ellis knew he’d accepted her when he started inviting her to watch football and baseball games with him. Though a lifelong resident of Youngstown, Ohio, he’d inherited his Pittsburgher father’s dedication to the Steelers and Pirates, but he also followed Ohio State football.