Then she nodded.
“She called four days ago.”
“What did she say?”
Margaret tightened her hands around the tea.
“She said you’d changed your mind.”
Noah felt the blood drain from his face.
“She said what?”
“She told me the wedding was very formal. She said you were worried I might feel out of place.”
Noah closed his eyes.
Margaret continued.
“I told her I understood. I said I wouldn’t stay long.”
Her voice grew smaller.
“Then she told me you didn’t want people asking questions about where you came from.”
Noah turned away.
He remembered being seventeen.
His mother had arrived at his school awards ceremony wearing her hospital uniform because she had come directly from work.
He had seen two wealthy classmates whispering about her.
Instead of walking over and embracing her, he had pretended not to notice.
Later that evening, he had told her not to embarrass him again.
She had said nothing.
The next morning, his favorite breakfast had been waiting on the table as usual.
For years, he had carried the memory as a private shame.
Now he understood that Claire had found the oldest wound in his mother’s heart and deliberately pressed against it.
“Mom,” he whispered, “I wanted you here.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you call when I said I wasn’t coming?”
He had no answer.
At last he sat beside her.
