Grace glanced at him.
“That’s not what I’m worried about, Sam.”
Sam looked up from his drawing.
“I understand,” I told her. “But we haven’t heard Bianca’s side of what happened.”
Grace looked at me.
“Do you believe her?”
“I haven’t decided. That’s why I’m going to ask her.”
Grace looked at me.
I glanced at Rachel’s number beside Bianca’s.
I’d spent a year helping my wife remember her past.
But when she’d found a part of it on her own, I’d almost tried to keep her away.
The next morning, I asked Rachel whether she’d mind me visiting Bianca alone.
I’d almost tried to keep her away.
“Why?”
“I want to understand what happened.”
Rachel considered it.
“Will you tell me what you find out?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Then please go.”
Bianca welcomed me into her kitchen.
She had family photographs spread across the table.
“Rachel asked me for copies before the accident,” she explained.
“Then please go.”
“Why didn’t you send them afterward?”
“I tried contacting her when I heard she’d been hurt. She never answered. I didn’t want to arrive at your house when she might not recognize me.”
I sat down.
“Rachel believed you abandoned your mother.”
Bianca folded her hands.
“I tried contacting her.”
“I wasn’t there enough. Rachel carried most of it.”
“Then why didn’t you help her?”
Bianca opened a drawer.
“There’s something Rachel discovered 18 months ago.”
She placed several letters on the table.
“I wasn’t there enough.”
I recognized Rachel’s mother’s handwriting.
One letter thanked Bianca for sending money toward household expenses.
Another mentioned the help she’d arranged during their mother’s illness.
“Rachel didn’t know about this?”
“No. Mom asked me not to tell her.”
One letter thanked Bianca.
“Why?”
“She hated accepting money. She didn’t want Rachel worrying about how she was managing.”
I turned another page.
There were payment records and notes about help their mother had refused.
“She hated accepting money.”
I remembered Rachel coming home from an appointment with her mother, too tired to eat.
She’d told me Bianca didn’t care.
I’d believed her.
“I thought arranging things from a distance would be enough,” Bianca said. “But Rachel needed me there.”
I looked up.
I’d believed her.
“She thought you didn’t care.”
“I cared. I just didn’t show up when she needed me most.”
Then Bianca showed me a message Rachel had sent.
“I found Mom’s letters. I think we need to talk.”
“Rachel sent this?”
“I cared.”
“Yes. She came here the following week.”
“What happened?”
“We argued. Then we apologized.”
Bianca picked up their photograph.
“She said she’d spent years believing I didn’t care. I admitted I’d left too much on her shoulders.”
“What happened?”
“Did you repair things?”
“Not all at once. But she kept visiting.”
I studied the photograph again.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Did you repair things?”
“She wanted to be sure we could rebuild things first. She planned to introduce us before the accident.”
Before leaving, I asked Bianca one more question.
“If Rachel doesn’t remember what happened between you, are you prepared to start over?”
Bianca looked toward the photographs.
I asked Bianca one more question.
“I’ve had a year to think about what I should’ve said to her. I don’t expect her to remember our apologies.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to know my sister again. Even if we have to begin with introducing ourselves.”
I picked up the copies she’d offered.
For the first time, I wanted Rachel to hear Bianca’s stories as much as mine.
“Then what do you want?”
When I got home, Rachel was helping Ben assemble a model airplane.
“How did it go?” she asked.
I waited until Ben went upstairs.
Then I sat beside her and explained the letters.
She listened carefully.
“How did it go?”
“So Bianca was helping Mom?”
“Yes. But she admits she should’ve spent more time there.”
Rachel looked toward the window.
“I really apologized to her?”
“She showed me your message.”
“Bianca was helping Mom?”
“Was I wrong about everything?”
“No. You were exhausted, and you needed your sister. But Bianca wasn’t as uncaring as you’d believed.”
Rachel rubbed her thumb across her palm.
