Part 5
I ended the call.
On Sunday, Luke parked in my parents’ driveway and turned off the engine. I stayed in my seat while he went around to get Hazel.
Inside, my mother was pouring coffee. The lamp in the window lit the pot as she tipped it toward Aunt Joyce’s cup. Two cousins were there too, and Dad sat in his usual chair. The company cups were out.
For years, I had pulled into that driveway hoping the visit would be easy. I looked at the hospital band on my wrist. The edges had softened over five days, and part of the printing had rubbed away. I’d left it on after discharge, even though Luke offered to cut it off.
Now I worked the fastening loose and slipped it into my coat pocket. Luke opened my door.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
He waited while I got out, then carried Hazel’s seat toward the porch. Behind us, a cane tapped the pavement.
Walter had parked farther down the street. He wanted to arrive on his own, without giving Valerie time to decide we had planned against her. He came up the walk with the folder pressed beneath his arm. At the foot of the porch, he stopped to catch his breath.
“Still want to do this?”
I looked through the window again. Brooke had claimed the end of the couch, her phone balanced against one knee. Dad was watching Mom fill Joyce’s cup.
“Yes.”
Walter opened the door. Luke went in beside me, careful to keep Hazel’s seat clear of my cast. The voices stopped.
Mom looked up. She registered Walter, then my arm, then the baby. By the time she reached us, her face had arranged itself into concern.
“Let me see that sweet girl.”
She stretched her hands toward the seat. Luke moved it slightly toward his own leg and knelt to check Hazel’s blanket.
“She’s just fallen asleep,” he said.
Mom withdrew her hands and touched her chest instead.
“Well. At least we’re all finally together.”
She turned toward the room.
“I can’t tell you how upsetting these last few days have been for me.”
Joyce held her cup in both hands. One cousin nodded. Dad rubbed his thumb over a knuckle. Mom guided us farther in without ever quite looking at my face.
“Thank goodness Erin’s accident wasn’t worse. We’ve all been frightened enough. And then, on top of that, to discover she doesn’t think her parents deserve any help at all.”
Luke put Hazel’s seat beside his chair. He took the diaper bag from his shoulder and placed it within my reach. I sat because standing was beginning to hurt. Mom remained on her feet.
“I know she has a lot going on. A new baby, work. We’ve tried to be understanding. But her father’s health can’t just be set aside because she’s angry with me.”
“Valerie,” Dad said quietly.
She looked at him, and he let the word end there. Joyce’s eyes moved toward my cast, then away. She had seen the page. I couldn’t tell whether she was waiting for me to defend myself or hoping I wouldn’t bring it up.
Brooke had stopped scrolling. She watched Mom as though she wasn’t sure which part of the conversation she was supposed to join.
“I raised both my girls to care about family,” Mom continued. Her eyes shone. She pressed a tissue beneath one of them, keeping her face turned so Joyce could see.
Then she faced me.
“I can’t understand why everything has to become such an ordeal with you. Brooke never puts us through anything like this.”
The fourth time.
I leaned toward the diaper bag and lifted the packet of wipes with my left hand. The envelope was underneath. Mom watched me take it out. Perhaps she thought it was a medical bill, another explanation, something she could tell the room she’d already considered.
I eased the page out and put it on the dining table.
“Let’s talk about Brooke, then,” I said. “And how she’s been able to manage.”
Nobody moved at first. I pushed the sheet nearer the light. Joyce leaned forward.
“This covers nine years. The statements behind it are saved, if anyone wants to check them.”
Mom started to say my name.
“I sent $486,000.”
Brooke looked at the paper.
“You sent that?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
“To the account Mom calls family money.”
Dad shut his eyes briefly. One of my cousins set down her cup so carefully that the saucer made almost no sound. I pointed to the first total.
“About $65,000 went to Dad’s treatment and prescriptions. That’s documented. Another $11,000 went toward the house loan.”
Joyce read those figures, then followed the line beneath them.
“Ten payments?” she asked.
“In nine years.”
Mom took a step toward the table.
“You have no idea how expensive it is to keep a household—”
I moved my finger to the cash withdrawals.
“About $290,000 was taken out in cash. Most of it at Juniper Ridge or within two miles of it. The ATM locations are in the statements.”
My cousin looked at Mom. Joyce didn’t.
“And roughly $120,000 went to Brooke, in transfers and expenses paid for her. That includes $40,000 I was told Dad needed for surgery.”
Brooke stood up.
“What forty thousand?”
“The money for your business that year. Your car, the photo shoot, the rest of it.”
“Mom said—”
“I know what she said.”
Luke unlocked his phone and put it on the table beside my sheet. The screenshot was open.
“We paid for her start ourselves,” Joyce read aloud.
My mother looked at the words she’d written and reached for the phone. Luke picked it up before she could cover the screen. Brooke stared at me, then at Mom.
“All of it was you?”
“The money in that account came from me. Every month.”
I kept my voice low. She’d been told a lie and lived comfortably inside it. Now she was old enough to hear what it had cost.
Mom still held the tissue. She had twisted it until a small piece broke off against her fingers.
“That page doesn’t show what we’ve sacrificed,” she said. “You’re making it sound—”
“It shows what I paid.”
“Erin, after everything—”
“I’ve got it.”
She recognized the words. I’d used them when a bill was overdue, when Dad needed an appointment, when Brooke’s plans required one more payment. This time, I left my hand resting beside the total. Mom’s face flushed.
“You’ve pulled things out and put them together to hurt me. Your father and I never asked you to—”
Walter set his cane against the side of the table. He placed the folder beside my summary and worked a finger beneath one rubber band. It stuck to the cover in places. He lifted it patiently until it came free, then removed the other.
“Erin didn’t discover this first,” he said. “Edith asked me to check before she died.”
My mother stopped speaking. He drew out a thick document and laid it where Joyce could see the cover. The name of the Wenatchee law office was printed at the top.
“Your grandmother and I put most of our property into a trust last spring,” he told me. “The land. The accounts. This house.”
Mom’s mouth opened.
“This house has always been ours,” he continued. “Letting Valerie and Frank live here didn’t make it theirs.”
I thought of the housing transfers and the way Mom had described taking over the place. She’d described it as her house for years. It had never been deeded to her.
Walter turned a page.
“Edith and I named Erin and her child to benefit from the property we put into it. Hazel’s education is provided for. The rest is held under the terms we agreed to. Valerie doesn’t control it, and it doesn’t become her inheritance.”
“Daddy.”
He looked at her.
“We had a lawyer draw it up. We went through every part. Your mother’s wishes are written here, with the signatures and records to support them.”
Mom stared at the document. Her hand lowered, and the tissue fell against the edge of the table. For the first time since we’d entered the house, she had no words ready…
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