always, and he hadn’t come. I had to see him. And I guess that day we both realized that Angela knew. And I made him afraid of me, afraid of what I might do. I was afraid for myself. I was afraid I was losing my mind.”
“Why did you try to take us away?”
For the first time, Delia looked uncomfortable. “I went a little mad. I wasn’t sleeping, I was staring at my life and I saw how every choice had led to the next, that it wasn’t some big fall but a series of steps, each one of my choosing. I could see Jimmy doing the same with Elena and I didn’t want that for you. Think about it, Kit — could he have married a dark-skinned girl? Could that have worked?”
“Was that up to you? We loved Elena!” I drew in a breath. “You were jealous of her, jealous because we loved her.”
She looked down. “I was jealous of anyone who had love and wasn’t going to lose it. But it wasn’t just that. I thought I” —she pressed her lips together —“I thought I should be the one to raise you. Because I’d renounced him, and I had nothing, and I could dedicate myself to all of you.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“Of course it doesn’t — I said I went a little mad, didn’t I? One night, I… well, never mind. Terrible things were in my head.”
The night I’d seen her in the tub, Da’s razor on the edge. I realized I hadn’t understood anything that night.
“It was the look on your faces that destroyed me. The fact that you didn’t want me — no, that the idea of my having you would be a terrible, dreaded thing.”
“You were taking us away from our father!”
“I was like a mother to you!”
“A mother who left every weekend! You got what you wanted, and it wasn’t us. It was never us!” Now we were shouting at each other, finally, and I felt satisfaction in it.
Delia controlled herself with an effort. “It is a terrible, terrible thing, Kitty, not to be loved by those you love. I hope you never find that.”
“This isn’t about love. This is about possession.” I shook my head. “You’re just like him. You’re just like Nate.”
I saw her recoil. “That’s not true.”
“Do you really expect me to feel sorry for you?”
“No, of course not. I don’t feel sorry for myself— why should you? I left everything because I had to. He made it clear I had to leave town. He was afraid of what I would do. So I made another life.”
“The whore of Babylon?”
She gave a small, private smile. “You got that, did you? I meant it as a taunt to him, but I like this place. Nate and I took a holiday once. We drove out to Fire Island and I saw this town, and I remembered it. I couldn’t risk staying in Rhode Island. But I wanted to be near the sea.”
I didn’t want to hear about Delia’s life. I reached into my pocket for the letter. “I found this.”
Delia looked over at the letter but didn’t touch it. “Where…”
“I guess Nate packed up all your stuff— he threw it into boxes. It was in the storage unit at the apartment.”
Delia shook her head. “The apartment — how did you —”
“Nate offered it to me when I moved to New York.”
Delia’s glance flicked to the living room. “The Greeleys — that tall boy is their son.” Her chair scraped back. She went to the sink and gripped it, her back to me.
“He said the apartment was just sitting there, and that I could take it until Billy came back from the army and we could be married.”
“And you accepted?”
Delia’s voice had risen, and I stood up to face her as she turned.
“You think you have a right to judge me?”
“Not judge you, just point out a particular piece of idiocy! What did you think you were doing, getting mixed up with Nate Benedict?”
I laughed. And, suddenly, Delia barked out a surprised laugh, too. We were bitter and angry and lost, but we both saw what was ridiculous in what she said.
“Oh, Lord, Kitty.” Delia dabbed at her eyes.
“So you wrote the letter and didn’t send it,” I said. “I don’t think he saw it — I found it in your stocking box.”