I pull it out for her and then sit on one of the others, trying to set her at ease. I’m twice her size, and given my resemblance to my grandfather and our past, I’m sure she’s intimidated. This is the most honest my mother has ever been with me. The most real. And I want to keep her talking.

She sits. “I knew her brother would take her away, and then maybe you and Theron could…” She trails off.

“Theron and I are going to be okay,” I tell her.

Her eyes are wet when she looks at me. “When I heard what happened to him, and I was so far away, I almost died myself.” I try not to let that sting. Theron did get the worst end of it. But she continues. “You and Mercedes too, you didn’t deserve that. And I’m glad she and you and the babies are safe.”

“Thank you. It is because of Theron.”

She smiles a little proudly at that. “That’s the Theron I know, Judge. It’s the one you never knew.” This gives me pause. All this time, all these years, has she had a piece of my brother that I refused to believe existed? How much time we’ve wasted. How much I’ve missed out on. We all have missed out on.

“I am sorry, if it makes any difference.” She points at the envelope propped against the box on the table. “It’s all in there. Along with some things for the baby I thought you might want. The christening gown both you and Theron wore, some keepsakes for the nursery, and just some other little things. You can throw it away. I’ll understand.”

“You kept all that?”

“Of course, I did. What mother wouldn’t?”

I study her for a moment and absorb her words. We’ve been unfair to each other, but the past is past. It’s time to let it go like I told Theron to do. “Where were you?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I have a friend in Brazil.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Brazil?”

She smiles. “He’s an old man. We’ve known each other for years, and well, it was past time I visited him, so I thought why not.”

“Society?”

“No. The opposite. Just a simple, kind man whom I met when I was on a study trip a lifetime ago. We always returned to each other even after years without contact. A letter or a postcard, a photo maybe. His wife passed away a few years back, and honestly, I had no idea where else to go, but I knew I couldn’t stay here.”

“Because you were afraid of me. Of what you thought I’d do to you.” The darkness that’s always lurked beneath the surface swells a little as if her fear has given it breath. I tamp it down.