Gil didn’t press her for more. He dipped his head until his forehead rested against hers, and they sat that way, swaying on the swing, until her breathing leveled with one final sigh. “Gil?”
“Yeah?”
“We need to talk.”
“Whenever you’re ready. Not before.”
“Gil?”
“Right here, Buttercup.”
“I’m ready.” She leaned back against the fluffy pillows that cushioned the back and side rails of the swing. He scooted acrossthe mattress until his back rested on the opposite side, mirroring her position. She sat cross-legged. He stretched his legs, one foot on the floor to keep the swing moving, the other leg stretched out beside her.
Gil nudged her leg with his foot. “We used to sit like this in the window seat and read. Remember?”
She remembered. She remembered everything. This cozy companionship was what they should have had for the past fifteen years. But they didn’t, because of her. “I’m so sorry, Gil.”
Once those words left her mouth, it all came out.
“I didn’t know what Mom was doing, Gil. I promise I didn’t. I never would have dreamed she could be so cold and heartless. Not to anyone, but especially not to your family. When we left your house, we went straight back home to Oregon, and even though we were going to be separated again, I was so happy. Our reunion had been more than I’d ever dared to dream it would be.” How was she going to get through this? How could she ever explain?
“Ivy, I know you didn’t know. And I never blamed you. None of us did.”
“I was so embarrassed.”
He didn’t comment on that.
“I didn’t answer your phone calls because Mom’s attorney said we couldn’t be in contact. And when I didn’t get any more letters from you, I thought you were too angry—”
Gil sat straight up. “What do you mean you didn’t get any letters? I wrote to you. Every day. For weeks.” There was so much raw pain in his words, she felt them slice through her heart.
“Mom stole those too.”
Gil’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.
“I found them, after Dad died. When I went home for the funeral,I went with a plan. I cleaned out everything of mine that was in the house. Books, photo albums, pictures, dolls, and stuffed animals. Everything. When I got it all unpacked in my apartment, I found them stuck in a copy ofAnne of Green Gables. I don’t think Dad knew they were there. And it was the kind of thing Mom would do. She wouldn’t have destroyed them, but she wasn’t about to give them to me either. She was on house arrest while she was waiting for trial, and she was so angry. I should have reached out to you, but it had been so long . . .”
She dropped her head into her hands. “Gil, I couldn’t face you. Or Emily. Or your parents. I spent five years thinking you’d cut me out of your life. I left for college thinking that you wanted nothing to do with me. Then I read the letters and realized what had happened, but by then I knew you assumedIhad cutyouoff. I’ve thought about calling you, or Emily. So many times. When you were shot in the spring, it was all I could do not to show up at the hospital. But what could I have said? I have no claim on you. No right to insert myself into your life. Not anymore.”
Gil scooted toward her, but she kept talking. She had to get this out now or she never would. “Every year I almost sent a Christmas card. But what would I say? ‘I’m sorry my mom was a thief’? ‘I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for us’? ‘I’m sorry I believed you didn’t want anything to do with me’ when there was nothing in our entire history that should have made me think that?”
“Buttercup.” Gil pulled her toward him until his forehead pressed to hers and his hands caressed her face.
“I’m so, so sorry.” What else could she say?
“I can forgive you for thinking I’d turned my back on you, if you can forgive me for thinking the same. We should have fought harder. Come after you. Insisted on talking it out. We didn’t. You are hardly the only one to blame here.”
“Butmymom was the one who precipitated the situation. Not yours.”
“So that means it’s all on you?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Want to know what you’re wrong about?”
She wasn’t sure if she did or not. “Maybe?”
“We were both young, both immature, both dealing with heavy things, and we both made the stupid decision to assume the worst in each other rather than the best.”
