Chapter 3: The Years Between
“Because I thought you had decided you didn’t want me in your life,” I said.
Nora’s expression didn’t change.
“That’s what you thought.”
“It’s what I told myself. I never knew for sure.”
The words sounded small in the hospital room. A thin line of light from the hallway crossed the floor between us. The monitor beside Nora’s bed beeped steadily, measuring time I couldn’t get back.
“I left for Stanford when I was eighteen,” I continued. “I thought the distance would be hard, but I thought we’d manage it. You told me you’d treasure the pendant. I took that as a promise about more than the pendant.”
“I was eighteen, too.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you decide I was the one who’d walked away?”
I looked down at my hands. They were steady now, but only because I’d pressed them together.
“Because it hurt less than wondering if I’d done something wrong. And because I was young enough to think that if you wanted me to know something, you’d make sure I knew it.”
Nora’s mouth tightened.
“So you waited for me to make it easy for you.”
“Yes.”
The answer left no room to hide behind a better-sounding one.
“You didn’t come looking,” she said.
“No.”
“You didn’t ask anyone where I was.”
“No.”
“You didn’t try to find out whether I was all right.”
“No.”
I could hear the traffic outside the window, distant and constant. In the room, even the small sounds seemed too loud: the shift of a blanket, the faint click of the IV pump.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Nora looked away. “That doesn’t explain it.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I wanted to tell her I’d regretted it. That there had been nights when I’d remembered the bridge and the amber star and wondered where she was. But regret wasn’t the same as effort. It didn’t make her responsible for comforting me about the years I’d chosen not to look.
Nora glanced toward the chair where Maisie had been sitting. Miss Evelyn had taken her to find a drink, giving us a little space without making a show of it.
“Years later, we saw each other again,” Nora said.
I lifted my head.
“You mean—”
“Yes. Later. Not right after you left.”
I didn’t move. The room seemed to narrow around those words.
“What happened?”
“We talked,” she said. “At first, like two people catching up. Then like two people who remembered what it had been like to know each other.”
I tried to picture it: Nora older than the girl on the bridge, me older than the boy who’d made her a pendant in his father’s garage. The details weren’t mine to fill in.
“And after that?” I asked.
“After that, we spent the night together.”
My breath caught. I kept my eyes on hers.
“Was Maisie—”
“I don’t know,” Nora said. “Not for certain. The timing could fit. But you don’t get to turn possibility into a fact because you want it to be true.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“You’ve been here less than a day. You don’t know her. You don’t know what she needs. And you don’t know what I went through after you left.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Then I’ll stop saying it and listen.”
Nora studied me, as if weighing whether that was just another sentence I liked the sound of.
“I had to make decisions on my own,” she said. “About work, about raising Maisie, about what to tell her when she asked about the pendant. I gave it to her because it mattered to me. Because I wanted her to have something beautiful that had come from a time when I believed the world might be kind.”
The pendant rested on the bedside table, within Maisie’s reach. Its crooked star caught the pale light, the tiny chip still visible along the lower edge.
“I didn’t give it to her to summon you,” Nora said.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I think I do. But you don’t owe me trust because I recognize something I made.”
She held my gaze for a beat, then looked toward the door.
“I thought about telling you,” she said. “There was a point when I believed you knew.”
My pulse quickened.
“Knew what?”
Nora’s eyes returned to mine.
“I’m not ready to go through all of that now.”
I wanted to push. To ask when she’d tried, what she’d said, what I’d missed. But her hand had curled against the blanket, and her face had gone pale with fatigue. Whatever the rest of the story was, it could wait until she chose to tell it.
“All right,” I said.
“Don’t agree just to sound patient.”
“I’m not. I’m agreeing because you said you’re not ready.”
A cart rattled somewhere in the hall. A nurse passed the open doorway, glanced in, and kept walking. The ordinary movement of the hospital continued around us, indifferent to the years between two people.
Nora closed her eyes for a moment.
“I can’t answer every question tonight,” she said.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“You are. You just haven’t put them all into words yet.”
That was fair.
The door opened wider. Miss Evelyn came in first, carrying a paper cup. Maisie followed, holding a second cup carefully in both hands. She looked from her mother to me, then to the pendant on the table.
“Is it too hot?” Nora asked.
“I’m waiting,” Maisie said, setting the cup down.
Miss Evelyn pulled the chair close to the bed. “We can take our time.”
Maisie climbed onto the edge of it, careful not to bump the table. Her gaze moved between Nora and me.
“Did you know each other before?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nora said.
“Before I was born?”
Nora paused.
“Yes.”
Maisie looked at me. “Were you friends?”
Nora answered this time.
“We loved each other when we were young.”
The words landed with a force I hadn’t expected. Maisie’s fingers went to the amber at her throat, closing around it.
“Is that why you made the star?”
I nodded. “I made it for your mom.”
“And you saw her again later?”
Nora’s eyes flicked toward me. I couldn’t tell whether Maisie had heard enough from the room or was simply putting the pieces together. Either way, I wouldn’t hand her an answer I didn’t have.
“We did,” Nora said.
Maisie looked down at the pendant, then back at me. Her voice had gone quiet.
“Could you be my dad?”
Miss Evelyn went still. Nora shifted against the pillow, wincing as she sat a little straighter.
No part of me was prepared for how much I wanted to say yes. No part of me had the right to.
May you like
Nora reached for Maisie’s hand.
“We don’t know yet, sweetheart,” she said. “We’ll need proof before we can answer that.”
