Chapter 26 - The twins turn nine
Three years after leaving Mercer House, Jonah and Blythe turned nine.
Healthy was too simple a word.
They had consequences.
Jonah fatigued more easily.
His liver required long-term monitoring.
Blythe had mild residual neuropathy in one foot that improved with therapy but never vanished completely.
Both attended school.
Both ran.
Both fought.
Both complained.
Ordinary complaints became luxury.
Their ninth birthday happened in our new house in Lincoln Park.
Not mansion.
Still expensive.
I had not become a monk.
Blythe invited thirteen children despite being told eight.
Jonah invited four and hid upstairs after thirty minutes.
Elena came late carrying two books.
No giant gifts.
Blythe said:
“You’re poor at presents.”
Elena answered:
“You’re rich in opinions.”
Jonah nearly fell off the chair laughing.
Later, after everyone left, Blythe brought out Mr. Buttons.
The rabbit Elena had repaired when she was four.
One ear remained slightly crooked.
“Did Mom really send Elena?”
She had asked versions before.
This time she was old enough for more.
“Yes.”
“How?”
I explained the letter.
Not every legal detail.
Genevieve had been worried.
She trusted Elena to bring information if the twins became sick.
Blythe looked at me.
“Did Mom trust you?”
That question still had teeth.
“Yes.”
“Then why Elena?”
I thought carefully.
“Because sometimes Mom needed someone outside our family to hold something we were not ready to hear.”
Jonah said:
“That sounds bad.”
“It was.”
Then:
“Do you wish you listened?”
“Every day.”
Jonah looked at me.
“You can stop every day.”
“What?”
“Mom’s dead. She knows.”
Blythe said:
“She doesn’t know. She’s dead.”
Sibling theology.
I laughed.
Then cried.
May you like
They both hated when I did that.
Good.
