Henry discouraged her from attending family business matters, and Solomon had always treated her opinions as irrelevant.
The thought frightened her.
Then she remembered standing inside Caleb's cabin while Vane shouted through the door.
She remembered the way her husband waited for her to answer.
And the way the frightened boy beside the river had reached for her when everyone else was running.
Eleanor took a breath.
“Then I'll speak.”
Caleb looked toward her.
His expression softened.
Martin nodded.
“Good.”
The hearing was scheduled several weeks later, after the court addressed preliminary matters and the lawyers prepared the necessary records.
During that time, the couple remained in Denver.
Eleanor worked with Martin to organize her financial history.
She reviewed correspondence.
Compared dates.
And reconstructed what Henry had told her about her family's property.
The work was painful.
Every document seemed to bring back another memory of being dismissed.
But it also gave her something she'd never possessed during her marriage.
A clearer understanding of what had been done in her name.
One afternoon, she found a letter Henry had sent to Solomon several years earlier.
It contained a reference to Miriam Bell's spring meadow.
Eleanor stared.
The letter described the property as a matter that needed to be resolved before Henry could complete a refinancing arrangement.
Near the bottom was a sentence that made her stomach tighten.
She still believes her mother's interest was extinguished at the time of our marriage.
Eleanor read it twice.
Then covered her mouth.
Henry had known.
He knew she believed the property was gone.
He knew that belief might be false.
And he'd deliberately allowed her to remain ignorant.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then Caleb entered.
He saw her expression.
“Eleanor?”
She looked up.
Her eyes filled.
“Henry lied to me.”
Caleb approached.
He looked toward the letter.
Then toward her.
“About the land?”
She nodded.
“He knew it belonged to my mother.”
Caleb's face tightened.
Eleanor continued.
“He knew I might still own it.”
For several seconds, she stared toward the desk.
Then whispered, “He spent fourteen years telling me I was lucky he married me.”
Caleb lowered himself beside her.
She looked toward him.
“Fourteen years.”
His eyes filled.
He reached for her hand.
She took it.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Eleanor whispered, “I wasted so much of my life.”