Skylights in the ceiling lit the room, and I stepped onto the hardwood floor. It was smal, a hidden attic room with a peaked roof. But the wals were covered with paintings, al of them hung carefuly a few inches apart. And al of the paintings were of me.

Elora’s meticulous brushstrokes made them almost look like photographs. They showed me in al stages of my life. At a birthday party when I was young, with cake on my face. A scraped knee when I was three, with Maggie helping me put on a BandAid. At a failed dance recital when I was eight, puling at my tutu. In my backyard, on the swings, with Matt pushing me. Curled up in my bed, reading It by flashlight when I was twelve. Caught in the rain when I was fifteen, trudging home from school.

“How?” I asked, staring in awe at al the paintings. “How did she do this? Elora told me she couldn’t pick what she saw.”

“She couldn’t, not realy,” Garrett said. “She never picked when she saw you, and it took a lot of her energy to focus on you, to see you. But… it was worth it for her. It was the only way she could watch you grow up.”

“It took a lot?” I turned back to him with tears in my eyes. “You mean it aged her a lot.” I gestured to the wals. “This is the reason why she looked fifty when I met her? This is why she died of old age before she even turned forty?”

“Don’t look at it like that, Wendy.” Garrett shook his head.

“She loved you, and she needed to see you. She needed to know you were alright. So she painted these. She knew how much it cost her, and she did it gladly.”

For the first time, I realy realized what I had lost. I’d had a mother that loved me my entire life, and I hadn’t been able to see her. Even after I met her, I didn’t get to realy know her, not until it was too late.

I began to sob, and Garrett came over to me. Somewhat awkwardly, he hugged me, letting me cry on his shoulder.

After I’d gotten it al out, he walked me back down to my room. He apologized for upsetting me, but I was glad he had. I needed to see that, to know about the paintings. I went to bed and tried not to cry myself to sleep.

In the morning, I knew I had much to do, so I rose early and went down to the kitchen to grab breakfast. I only made it as far as the stairs when I heard arguing in the main hal. I stopped and peered down over the railing to see what the fuss was about.