Chapter 10 - Nora’s Other Photographs
The framed Cape Cod photograph was not the only one with writing.
Rebecca told me:
“Nora said she sometimes wrote dates on photographs at home.”
I searched with care.
Not ripping frames apart.
Ivy chose which of Nora’s photos could be checked.
We found four notes.
One:
March 3 — Celeste told Ivy “Mommy will need helpers when she goes to heaven.” I asked her to stop death talk.
Another:
April 11 — Nolan sent new travel letter. Did not sign.
Another:
May 2 — Celeste says I am being possessive because I asked her not to take Ivy to aquarium without asking.
Then:
May 16 — Grant says Celeste is only trying to help. Maybe I am overreacting. I hate that I can’t tell anymore.
That one hurt most.
I had made Nora doubt herself.
Not intentionally.
Still.
One final note:
June 4 — Rebecca has copies. If I’m wrong, good. If I’m right, someone will know.
She had created redundancy.
Not treasure map.
Not conspiracy file.
A dying mother preserving facts because illness made everyone treat her fear as emotion first.
I sat on Ivy’s bedroom floor with the photographs.
She asked:
“What Mommy write?”
Age appropriate.
“Mom wrote reminders for me about things she was worried about.”
“Celeste?”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
“She wanted you safe.”
Ivy touched one photograph.
“Mommy knew suitcase?”
“No.”
Important.
No prophecy.
“She knew Celeste had talked about taking you on trips before.”
Ivy nodded like this made sense.
Then:
“Mommy smart.”
“Yes.”
Also scared.
Also imperfect.
May you like
But yes.
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