Oh, to see once more,
The girl I left behind me…
Then, like a blessed miracle, her voice of polished mahogany fills the emptiness.
The one I loved so dearly,
Who I let slip away,
but who I’ll see again.
Like sea-smoothed bottle glass fitting into its position, making clear the picture of fractured pieces, my mother enters that tomb-silent courtroom and strides right up to the front, unaware of the enthralled audience. She pulls me close, folding me into the embrace that fits like a glove, and weeps onto my shoulder. She smells of cloves and lavender and somehowmusic.Sweet-scented music that once formed the backdrop to my life.
Chapter 39
“Madam,thisisacourt of law, and your behavior is most irregular. You will restrain yourself or be removed.”
“This is your mother?” whispers the barrister.
There’s no denying it, for I am her mirror image, but I nod.
He then speaks to the lord chancellor, but throws a clear, jagged look toward Sabine. “Your lordship, this is Mrs. Winthrop’s mother, Isabella de Montfort. Which, of course, changes the assessment of Mrs. Winthrop’s…unsubstantiated dreams.” Then, to me. “Mrs. Winthrop, is this the woman you recalled in your visions?”
“Mymemories. Yes, this is my mother.”
“Isabella de Montfort, I assume.” He turns to her, and she offers a graceful nod.
The lord chancellor turns to me with a long look. “Exactly how much have you recalled in these…flashes of memory, Mrs. Winthrop?”
“More every day.” Hope is building, and I cannot tamp it down. I tell the chancellor what has surfaced on my trip toCornwall, how I have begun to reclaim my lost memories. “I found my way along the footpath and up the hidden staircase to the house where I lived as a child. I saw the place where I’d carved pictures into the mantel. I recalled the words of so many songs from my childhood, and”—I pause to glance with awe at my mother—“opera. Lovely opera singing from my mum.” I tell him about recalling the steps, finding the key to my flat in Gloucestershire, and the floating memories that my mind had begun to pin down.
Rather than viewing me with doubt, he is astonished. Fascinated. “It would seem your memories are returning, then.”
I cannot take my eyes off the stunning woman in the red hat, whose gaze is fixed upon me. “The important ones, my lord.”
I will never forget this day because it’s the day of my hearing, the day I find my mother, and the day the lord chancellor, who isn’t at all acquainted with me, changes the course of my life. “Taking this evidence into account, as well as the previous testimony presented to this court, it is hereby the judgment of the lord chancellor that Mrs. Merryn Winthrop has demonstrated sufficient recovery of her mental faculties and has shown, to the court’s satisfaction, both mental stability and moral fitness to maintain a life independent of an institution. Accordingly, it is hereby ordered that guardianship of the minor grandson of the late Lady St. Laurent, Master Cecil Linwood, revert as requested to Mrs. Winthrop, with all associated rights and obligations.”
Cecil. He just granted meCecil.I shoot to my feet with a small cry, hands on my face. I am shaking with delight, overwhelm, disbelief.We won.
The lord chancellor glances at me, a tiny smile flickering before he continues. “Furthermore, due to Mrs. Winthrop’s ongoing recovery, the court determines that Mrs. Winthrop is not fit to act as sole trustee and shall hereby act asjointtrusteeover Master Linwood’s estate alongside Miss Sabine St. Laurent, who shall take the minority role but possess veto power in any estate-related decisions, as well as Mrs. Winthrop’s husband. Let the order be so entered.”
I’m still shaking with happiness. He’s done it—the lord chancellor has split the fortune but granted me the treasure.
We take tea in a cheery tearoom across from the courthouse. I tell my mother in hasty half-sentences how I was injured and am still healing—mostly my mind. I give her sufficient details to bridge the gap of years but add that most of my memories remain lost.
Then I stop…and simply look at her.My mother.
When I married AJ, the ceremony was surreal. I felt like a celestial being, floating up the aisle on a cloud. This moment, sitting in a cramped tearoom drinking tea across from the enchanting ghost of a woman I saw in my dreams for years, feels just as unreal.
I have questions. Why did I run away all those years ago?
It isn’t important.
Had we argued?
Not exactly.
Tea is served, a strong brew with floating mint leaves. Will I even taste it? I take a sip, burning my tongue. “Why are you here?” I finally ask. She is known for traveling widely and for leaving me behind. The picture is taking shape, but there are large, gaping holes. I scramble silently for the missing stones, desperate to complete the mosaic.
