The next year she made Jack a card reading:
HAPPY PERSON WHO DID EVERYTHING DAY.
He framed it.
Elena found it hilarious.
Jack did not.
He absolutely did.
Three years after Elena returned, Vincent Rourke died in federal prison.
The news reached Elena by email.
She sat quietly for a long time.
Jack found her at the kitchen table.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.”
He sat.
“I thought I’d feel something.”
“What?”
“Relief.”
“And?”
“Mostly tired.”
Jack took her hand.
She looked at him.
“He took seven years.”
“No.”
Elena frowned.
Jack continued.
“He caused seven years.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“I know.”
Jack squeezed her fingers.
“But he doesn’t get ownership of them.”
She stared.
“They happened.”
“Yes.”
“We lost them.”
“Yes.”
“But Sophie also learned to ride a bike.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“I missed that.”
“You missed it.”
He did not soften the truth.
“She broke her arm at six.”
“I know.”
“You missed that too.”
Elena cried quietly.
Jack continued.
“And now you know she hates tomatoes.”
She laughed through tears.
“You know she lies about brushing her teeth.”
Another laugh.
“You know she sings in the shower when she thinks nobody hears.”
Elena nodded.
Jack touched her hand.
“He caused loss.”
He looked at her.
“He does not get the rest.”
That became another rule in their family.
People who caused pain did not own everything that followed.
Five years after Elena moved back to Cedar Glen, Jack found himself standing inside the original garage again.
Not the shop.
Home.
The same workbench.
The same crooked red cabinet.
The white crossover sat with its hood open.
Elena stood beside it.
She looked furious.
“You said you fixed this.”
“I did.”
“Five years ago.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s broken again.”
“That is how cars work.”
She wore jeans, a white shirt, and the old taupe cardigan she had kept for reasons Jack found sentimental.
Sophie, twelve now, sat on the same stool.
Long legs.
Headphones around her neck.
Bunny had finally retired to her bedroom.
Jack leaned into the engine.
“Alternator.”
Elena folded her arms.
“You sure?”
He looked offended.
“Leave.”
“No.”
Sophie said, “Mom, stop bothering him.”
Elena smiled.
The word still affected her.
Mom.
Sophie used it naturally now.
Not always.
Sometimes Elena.
Sometimes Mom.
No rule controlled it.
Jack loosened the belt.
Elena came closer.
“You remember this?”
“What?”
“The first repair.”
“Yes.”
“You were rude.”
“You were suspicious.”
“You thought I was stalking Sophie.”
“You were.”
“I was legally living across the street.”