Then back to me.
“You did, didn’t you?”
She was searching for an escape.
This time, I was standing in it.
“We are coming inside.”
I crossed the threshold of the house where I had been born.
“You are going to look at me.”
I turned toward her.
“And you are going to tell me why.”
I already knew Margaret had lied.
What I still did not understand was what could possibly have been worth fifty-five years.
The Real Reason
Inside the parlor where Margaret and I had once played as little girls, she backed away.
Her face had never regained its color.
“Why?”
I followed her.
“Fifty-five years, Margaret.”
My voice cracked for the first time.
“Why?”
“I was protecting you.”
I stared at her.
“From what?”
“Samuel might not have come home whole.”
Margaret’s voice shook.
“I was afraid.”
“You could not lose me to him?”
“Yes.”
“That is the first lie you told yourself.”
I stepped closer.
“But it isn’t the whole truth.”
Margaret sank into Father’s old chair.
Her hands were shaking.
Then she finally said it.
“When Father died, I read the will.”
I waited.
“The estate was divided according to which of us had children.”
My stomach dropped.
“I had a family.”
Margaret looked at the floor.
“You didn’t.”
The truth became perfectly clear.
“So the longer Samuel remained lost…”
Margaret began crying.
“The more you inherited.”
“You would have been fine!”
She looked at me desperately.
“I told myself you would be fine, Eleanor.”
I stared at her.
“You told yourself I would thank you.”
The room became silent.
Samuel stood near the doorway.
His eyes were wet.
I looked around the house.
The furniture.
The china cabinet.
The walls my parents had once owned.
Then I looked back at my sister.
“You can keep the house.”
Margaret stared at me.
“Keep the money.”
I took Samuel’s hand.
“Keep every plate in that china cabinet.”
“Eleanor—”
“What you cannot return is fifty-five years.”
My grip tightened around Samuel’s fingers.
“And I’m done letting you keep those too.”
I turned.
Then walked out of Cedar Hill.
Margaret did not follow.
