Page 99 of The Clifftop Cottage

She let out a humourless breath.

“A calling,” Leah said. “That’s what they called it.”

The word tasted bitter.

“She left us with a dying father,” Leah said, quieter now. “And called it salvation.”

The fire shifted in the grate.

Erica’s gaze had dropped to the flames. She looked smaller suddenly. Not furious. Just … cracked.

“She must’ve been notified,” Leah said, gentler now. “About Dad … when he finally …” She stopped. “Or about me trying to find her. I don’t know. But then I got this.”

She slipped her hand into her inside coat pocket – the one she kept close to her heart – and drew out the folded letter. The paper was softened at the edges from being opened, reread and refolded too many times.

For a moment, she hesitated.

Then she handed it over.

“Read it.”

Erica took it slowly, carefully as if it might burn.

She moved to the far end of the sofa and sat, then immediately stood again. Too restless to stay still. The paper trembled between her fingers as she unfolded it.

She turned it over. Her eyes lifted, confused, already glossed with tears. “I don’t understand.”

Leah stepped forward instinctively. Every muscle in her wanted to pull her sister close. To smooth this over. To undo the years.

“She ran away,” Erica whispered. The words were fragile, like glass. “To a nunnery?”

Leah nodded.

“Yes.”

And the house felt colder for it.

“All this time …” Erica’s voice faltered for the first time. “Part of me thought she had d-died.”

Leah nodded once. “Me too.”

The admission sat heavy between them.

“But she didn’t,” Erica said with letter still in hand, turning into a fist. “She just ran away?” Her voice rose. “When Dad was—” She couldn’t finish it. “She left. And just stayed away?”

“Yes,” Leah said. Not unkindly. Just true. “We suspected that much though, didn’t we?”

Erica began pacing again, faster now. The blanket slipped from her shoulders and dropped to the floor.

“Well I’m going to track her down,” she said. “She doesn’t get to do this. Disappear. Send you letters like breadcrumbs and leave me with nothing. Not a call. Not even a bloody birthday card.” Her breath was coming too fast. “I’ll find her.”

Leah stepped into her path, not blocking – just trying to be there. “You can see why, though, can’t you?” she said gently. “She wasn’t well. She couldn’t even look after herself.”

“She could have called,” Erica shot back. “She could’ve told me.”

“She doesn’t want to be found, Erica. That’s what the letter says. She asked me to stop looking. Not in direct words, but it’s there.”

“I don’t care. She’s our mother.”