Suddenly I thought of the mysterious caller Esme’s claim, No one can help me. I was fed up with the caller’s games, but what if this person really did have no one else to trust? Rebecca’s project had opened a vein of empathy toward this troubled soul and a renewed wonderment at why the caller reached out to me, rather than to Stefan or to Jill. Even if I didn’t believe what she said, she still seemed tormented by it.

I excused myself for a moment. On the porch, I sent a text from my phone. This is Thea, Esme. Please call me or text. I do want to know what you know.

But I heard nothing from her. And there was nothing I could do.

A few weeks later, Stefan and Jep and I stood with the assembled Hodge clan, including Alice’s mother and her two daughters, her sisters and their families and my own parents, in front of the sign, hand-carved from Wisconsin red cedar, that read The Alice Hodge Safe Home. Rebecca was standing with us, a departure from the rules. Although she was technically the person who had done wrong and she was making amends to the Hodges, they were having none of it. They asked for her to be with them. They wanted the chance to publicly thank her for her sacrifice and ingenuity in deciding just what she—and by extension, Alice—would find meaningful for this big lakeside house that had already seen so much joy and grief. Not only did they gift The Alice Hodge Safe Home an operating budget that would be reviewed after six years, including a salary for Rebecca and money for home improvements as they were needed, they also independently gave a substantial sum directly to Stefan’s The Healing Project to be used at his discretion.

Just before the end of the ceremony, Alice’s mother, Alma, usually quiet in big groups, spoke up. “We accepted your letter, Rebecca, but I want you to know that none of us accepts its basic premise. You did not let our Alice down. No one did. Some people will fight and win. Some people fight and lose. Alice had a choice between the dark and the light of her nature. It seems cruel to say so, but she did have that choice. Your choice means that people will always be reminded of the best part of our Alice. You have brought a part of Alice back to us. And we thank you.”

Stefan, Jep and I stood there in the brave sunlight, moved by the free mingling of emotions that chased across those changed, familiar faces. I leaned heavily on Jep’s sheltering arm. As we walked back to the car, Stefan mused about how both things were true—Alma’s explanation and Becky’s account. Her inaction was an action; she was not guilty, but in a way she was responsible.

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