Nora frowned.
Alexandra explained:
“She got eight years I wanted.”
“And I am grateful to her for every one.”
“Those feelings can both exist.”
Nora thought for a long time.
Then:
“I get jealous when Dad plays with Uncle Matt’s kids.”
Alexandra smiled.
“Exactly.”
“Except my thing is less weird.”
Alexandra laughed.
“Yes.”
“Probably.”
They visited Hannah’s grave together two months later.
Ethan did not go.
That was Alexandra’s request.
“I need to meet her alone.”
Nora carried flowers.
The cemetery overlooked a broad valley.
Hannah Cole’s marker was simple.
Beloved Wife.
Beloved Mother.
Nurse.
Friend.
Alexandra stood for a long time.
Then she sat in the grass.
Nora sat beside her.
Alexandra said:
“I don't know what people say at graves.”
“Dad talks to her.”
“What does he say?”
“Everything.”
“Sometimes he complains.”
“About?”
“Me.”
Alexandra smiled.
“Good.”
Nora picked at grass.
Alexandra looked at Hannah’s name.
“Thank you.”
Her voice barely worked.
“You took care of my little girl when I couldn’t.”
Nora leaned against her.
Alexandra continued.
“I wish you had found me.”
“I wish I had found you.”
“I wish none of us had needed to be brave.”
She stopped.
Then whispered:
“And I’m sorry that part of me hates that she called you Mom before she ever knew me.”
Nora looked at her.
Alexandra closed her eyes.
“That is an ugly thing to say.”
“No.”
Nora said.
“Mom would understand.”
Alexandra opened her eyes.
“How do you know?”
“Because she got jealous when Dad talked to pretty women.”
Alexandra laughed so suddenly she startled a bird from a nearby tree.
For the first time Hannah felt like a person rather than a saint built from grief.
That helped.
Later Alexandra asked Ethan about it.
“Hannah was jealous?”
“Violently.”
“Really?”
“She once hated a grocery cashier for six months.”
“Why?”
“She touched my hand when giving receipt.”
Alexandra laughed.
“I like her more now.”
“You're welcome.”
In the second year after the reunion, Alexandra moved.
Not permanently.
She still needed to be near Denver for work.
But she bought a modest house fifteen minutes from Ethan.
Modest by her standards meant four bedrooms and a mountain view.
Ethan saw it and nearly had a stroke.
“This is modest?”
“It has no staff quarters.”
“It has a wine cellar.”
“I don’t even drink much wine.”
“That makes it worse.”
Nora chose her room.
Purple walls.
Window seat.
A desk.
Alexandra ordered a designer to help.
Nora rejected every sample.
Finally Ethan said:
“Let her choose.”
“She is eight.”
“Yes.”
“She chose neon purple.”
“Yes.”
“It violates architecture.”
“She lives there.”
The room became neon purple.
Alexandra hated it.
Then loved it because Nora did.