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I swallow. “I should have told you all, but I—I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t approve, and I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.
I go through everything with them, finding the picture, hiring Georgia, how it led to Boylesville, Pennsylvania, Jonas and his mother, the whole story.
“She would talk about you, Finley. Near the end. But she had dementia and wouldn’t say anything specific. And she saw Aria.”
Piper’s mouth drops open, Finley swallows, and Jake’s face goes carefully blank.
“What do you mean?” Finley asks, her voice soft.
“She told Jonas that Aria had been there to visit and she was coming back for her. She died a week later.”
A palpable silence hangs in the air, thick with the weight of the information I laid on them. When the fridge in the kitchen clatters from ice dropping in the ice maker, it may as well be the rumble of thunder.
Jake is the first to break. “That would be just like her, to show up for someone who didn’t deserve her love or mercy.”
Finley reaches over and grabs Jake’s hand. “She was the best of us.”
We’re silent for a moment, recognizing the truth of the statement.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I should have told you all sooner.” I swallow, my mouth dry. “I have Jonas’s card, so if anyone wants to talk to him, or has any other questions... Also I thought, since we went through Dad’s things together, we could do this together too.” I motion to the box Mindy set at the end of the table. “You know, if you want.”
Piper’s head tilts, angling toward Finley. “It’s up to you.” She looks over at Mindy. “And you. You both remember her the most.”
Mindy glances over at me and then nods. “I’m in.”
Everyone looks at Finley.
She blows out a breath. “I’m in this with all of you, of course.”
We pop off the lid and everyone digs in, taking turns grabbing items out. We set aside some of them, like pay stubs and tax forms, and share others around the table, like photographs and old coins and jewelry, a smattering of old CDs,Tristan und IsoldeandDon Giovanni.
“She used to be very erratic.” Finley’s voice startles me.
I look up. She’s staring down at an empty prescription pill bottle in her hand.
“You remember that?” Piper asks.
Finley nods. “Sometimes she was so much fun. Exciting. Wanting to go on impromptu trips or taking me and Mindy to a surprise breakfast before school. Other times it was,” she frowns, “scary.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“She took us on a day trip to the city and we were gone until it got dark. Except she didn’t call the school to let them know we would be out, and she didn’t tell Dad. He was freaking out. They fought. She would scream, threaten,” she swallows, “and blame us.” She nods to Mindy.
I frown.
Piper speaks up before I can. “Wait. She blamed you? When you were what, five?”
“Six or seven, maybe. But yeah. She said we were crying to not go to school, and she was just trying to be a good mom.” She shakes her head. “It wasn’t true though.”
My jaw tightens in annoyance on their behalf. “Even if it was, you were kids.”
Finley’s head tilts to one side. “Yeah, that’s what Dad said. It set her off more. She took off, made him worry all day, and then somehow turned it around on him.” Finley looks up and meets my eyes, a crease between her brow. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more or talk about her more. Maybe I should have. It was hard for me to talk about her, to come to terms with the fact that she left. I thought it was my fault or something, but that’s no excuse. I didn’t know you felt the lack.”
I stand up and walk over to her, bending over to throw my arms around her neck. “There was no lack. You were the best sister-mother a girl could ask for.”
She laughs, the sound thick with emotion.
I’m not sure my search was about finding Mom at all. It was about finding myself.
