Estelle’s cheeks warmed.Yes. And Leo.
She moved away from the window, drawn by impulse to her bedroom. The floorboards creaked softly beneath her feet as shecrossed to the bed and kneeled beside it. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the bag where she’d hidden the wooden box containing the silver dragon. She pushed the clothes to one side and wrapped her fingers around the smooth edges of the box.
Are you sure about this?her dragon asked gently.
No,Estelle admitted.But I need to look.
She pulled the box out and sat on the edge of the bed, just looking at it. Then she lifted the lid. There was the dragon pendant. But that wasn’t why she’d opened the box.
It was what was beneath it. Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the brown envelope, flipped it open, and slid out the contents.
The first photo showed Maris laughing, her head thrown back, dark curls catching sunlight. Julian stood beside her, his arm around her waist, looking at her with such open adoration it made Estelle’s heart ache.
They were so in love,she whispered as she ran her fingers over the photo.
So happy,her dragon agreed.So certain they had all the time in the world.
The next photograph was of Adara as a tiny baby, cradled in Maris’s arms. Julian hovered nearby, like the proud father he was.
I remember this. I took this one,Estelle said, tracing the edge of the photo.The day they brought her home from the hospital.
Maris was glowing,her dragon observed.Motherhood suited her.
Everything suited Maris,Estelle murmured.
She shuffled through more photographs: Adara’s first bath, Julian asleep with the baby on his chest, Maris holding her daughter up to the camera with fierce pride.
Then she paused, her breath catching on a photograph she had forgotten was there. Margaret, holding infant Adara, her face soft with wonder. Julian stood beside his mother, his hand resting on her shoulder, both of them gazing down at the baby.
She loved her,Estelle said quietly.From the very beginning.
Of course she did,her dragon replied.Adara is her flesh and blood. A part of Julian.
The photograph stirred something difficult in Estelle. Not the sharp jolt of anxiety that usually came with thoughts of Margaret, but something more complicated.
Her dragon shifted uneasily.Are you feeling sorry for her now?
No. Yes. I don’t know.Estelle set the photograph aside.Watching Leo with his family today, seeing how they hold each other up... it made me wonder who held Margaret.
There were more photos, holidays, ordinary days, moments frozen in time. In each one, love was visible, as real as the glossy paper in her hands.
Including Margaret.
She flipped to one last photograph: Maris and Julian on their wedding day, faces filled with joy, and beside them Margaret, beaming with pride and uncomplicated happiness.
She lost everything,Estelle whispered.Her son. Her daughter-in-law. And then, from her point of view, her granddaughter, too.
That doesn’t excuse what she did to us,her dragon said firmly.
No,Estelle said.It doesn’t. But maybe it explains it.
She looked down at the box in her lap, at the life that had existed before everything narrowed into fear and escape and survival.
I can’t keep doing this alone,she said suddenly.
Her dragon lifted its head.Doing what?
Carrying all of this.Estelle gestured at the photographs.The memories. The fear. The responsibility of making sure Adara knows who she is.She swallowed.I need help.
