Your mother wasn’t the only one who was afraid.”
Part 5 · 3 min read ·
Nathaniel picked up the first envelope. “Did you forget me?”
Agnes smiled sadly. “You used to fix everybody’s toys, Nate. You gave away your dessert for three weeks to buy glue from the corner store.”
Nathaniel laughed through tears. “I did?”
“You were infuriating.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Agnes’s smile faded. “Your mother loved you. But sometimes people protect what they love so fiercely they suffocate it.”
Nathaniel looked at the letters. “What do I do now?”
“You stop asking frightened people for permission to be whole.”
“And Hannah?”
“She deserves an apology, not an order.”
Nathaniel nodded. Agnes pushed the box toward him. “Take these.”
He hesitated. “I’m afraid the boy in those letters was happier than the man reading them.”
Agnes reached across the desk. “Then perhaps the man should learn something from the boy.”
Hannah lived in a two-bedroom apartment above a bakery on Linden Street. Nathaniel knocked at 10:14. Rosie opened the door. She looked him up and down. “You look expensive.”
Nathaniel glanced at his coat. “I’ve been told.”
“Mama, the billionaire is here.”
“Rosie!”
Nathaniel bit his cheek. Hannah appeared. She wore jeans and an old gray sweatshirt. Her hair was tied up. There was flour on one sleeve. Without the uniform, she looked younger. And more distant. “Mr. Cross.”
“Nathaniel.”
“Why are you here?”
“To apologize.”
Her expression didn’t change. He continued. “My mother was wrong.”
Hannah folded her arms. “So were you.”
“I know.”
That surprised her. Nathaniel swallowed. “I stood there while she fired you. I could have stopped it immediately. I didn’t.”
“No.”
“I’ve spent most of my life pretending that obeying my mother is the same thing as respecting her.”
Hannah said nothing. “I went back to Hawthorne House.”
Her face softened slightly. “Agnes gave me thirty birthday letters.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t know they existed.”
Hannah stepped aside. “Come in.”
He entered. The apartment was small but warm. Photographs covered one wall. Hannah and Rosie. Rosie missing her front teeth. A broad-shouldered man with kind eyes holding a wrench. Daniel. Nathaniel looked at him. “Your husband?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
She said it without self-pity. Just truth. Nathaniel liked that. “I want you to come back,” he said. Hannah shook her head immediately. “Not because I’m ordering you.”
“I know.”
“Leo asked about you this morning.”
Her eyes shifted. “He talked?”
“He hasn’t stopped.”
A smile betrayed her. “Mostly about Rosie’s surgery technique.”
“I did the ear,” Rosie called from the kitchen. Hannah closed her eyes. Nathaniel laughed. Then his expression sobered. “I want you back because my son trusts you.”
“Your mother doesn’t.”
“That’s her problem.”
“It’s my workplace.”
“Then we change the workplace.”
Hannah studied him. Nathaniel added, “On your terms.”
Silence. Finally she asked, “Any terms?”
“Reasonable ones.”
“Saturdays are mine.”
“Done.”
“The discarded toys go to Hawthorne House.”
“Done.”
“You never use my job to tell me what I can or cannot do with Rosie.”
“Done.”
“And if your mother speaks to me the way she did Friday, I leave.”
Nathaniel nodded. “Done.”
Rosie appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Ask for dental.”
Hannah stared at her. “What?”
“I heard adults say it on television.”
Nathaniel laughed so hard he had to look away. Hannah fought a smile. “Health insurance for Rosie stays covered,” Nathaniel said. “It already was.”
“Then better dental.”
Rosie nodded approvingly. “He’s learning.”
Hannah exhaled. “For Leo.”
Nathaniel looked at her. “For Leo,” she said again. “That’s enough.”
For then, it was. Hannah returned Monday. Eleanor apologized Tuesday. Not elegantly. Not easily. She found Hannah polishing a table in the library and stood there for nearly a minute before speaking. “Mrs. Reed.”
Hannah looked up. “Ma’am.”
“I was wrong.”
Hannah waited. Eleanor visibly disliked being forced to continue. “I told myself I was protecting my grandson.”
“You were protecting your fear.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows rose. Hannah immediately said, “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Eleanor shook her head. “You’re right.”
That surprised both of them. Eleanor looked toward the window. “When Nathaniel came to me, I wanted to erase every hurt he’d ever had. I thought if I erased the reminders, I could erase the pain.”
“You can’t.”
“No.”
“Neither can Leo.”
Eleanor nodded. “I told Nathaniel Hawthorne House made him weak.”
Hannah set down her cloth. “It made him kind.”
Eleanor looked at her. “He was kind already.”
“Then it helped him keep it.”
For the first time, Eleanor smiled at Hannah. Small. Tired. Real. “Will you come back properly?”
“I’m already back.”
“I mean without expecting me to chase you off.”
Hannah considered this. “Saturdays remain mine.”
Eleanor nodded. “And nothing that belongs to Leo goes into the trash without Leo being asked.”
A pause. Then Eleanor said, “Agreed.”
“And Captain never goes anywhere.”
“I have learned that lesson.”
Leo began attending Saturday Toy Hospital.