Men don’t cry at words.
Thunder boomed and flashes of light from the storm were visible through the arrow slits.
In control once more, he slumped on his bed—and noticed pink sheets. A pink comforter. A doll.
This room was different.
Olivia had changed things for a girl. Why? His mind settled fast that she must have friends who stayed over with children often enough to decorate the room differently.
Not that it mattered. He’d given up boyhood long ago. Whatever child stayed here in the future could have the closet with the hiding spots too.
He quickly read the letter and saw his sister’s name and a note from their mother. Olivia would want to read this.
He’d almost forgotten as he’d blocked everything out.
He was practically calm when the door burst open and his sweet Clara and smart sister Olivia stepped inside. Olivia had her hand on her hip as she asked, “Youhid the key all this time?”
Now it was time to leave this child’s room and become an adult. “I was a boy and then… I blocked everything out to avoid this. I’m sorry.”
Clara must never see how horrible he was inside.
Olivia crossed her arms and said, “I… I want to read this in the library.”
“Why?” Clara asked.
His heart stilled, but Olivia said, “I work there all the time.”
The scene of the crime wasn’t his ideal spot for revelations but he agreed anyway. “Okay.”
They headed out and Olivia breathed easier as she directed them to the library. He held the white envelope in the air. Their mother had probably dictated her dying words in this very room--he slipped the envelope into Olivia’s hands. “Did Clara tell you about Max?”
Olivia shook the envelope. “I have no idea why he’s here, except to cause trouble.”
His sister removed the paper and stared at the words. Astorre said, “I thought before you left, you’d like to read what Mom wrote.”
Olivia had tears in her eyes and she pushed the paper away, like she might ruin the words by crying on them. She asked, “Mom?”
Astorre slid one arm around Clara's waist, so they stood side-by-side. He shouldn’t touch her. She didn’t deserve to have her life in his weak hands. One day he might go crazy too, but for this second he needed her calm. He said without emotion, “Yes. That’s it in your hands, the letter.”
Olivia covered her lips but they all heard her slight weep. “Did you read this already?”
“As a boy, only once and I hid it away to avoid the truth. I should have given it to you then. I didn’t know you thought it was lost until we came back.” If she read aloud the whole thing, he’d dissolve into nothing. Part of him wished the outside storm would just sweep him into the bay. His voice cracked as he said, “It’s about you too, in the second half.”
Olivia sounded like their mother as she read out loud the part he'd mentioned, “My darling Astorre, the doctors said you and Olivia are both fine. I’m happy. I wish things had been different but neither one of you should ever blame yourselves. I want you both to find love, get married and always read to your children as I read to you. I love you both.”
Olivia dropped the paper and cried into the wall.
Her sobs made his chest ache too and he went to her side and hugged her. She let him and sunk into his shoulder.
Clara shouldn’t see him break down. She deserved better, so he widened his stance to keep from crying again; not here, not now. “You have her voice, y’know.”
Olivia met his gaze and for one moment she even looked like Mom again. But then she shook her head and hugged her waist. “I don’t remember that. I hope she knows I do love reading.”
He spun away. “I’m unsure what I feel and wish I never read that.”
Clara’s sweet voice broke the tension when she asked, “Can I see the letter?”
Olivia handed it to Clara and his shoulders were as rigid as steel. He couldn't move.
