Mom nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Dad reached across the table and covered her hand.
For years, I had confused forgiveness with erasing consequences.
I no longer believed they were the same.
I could love my mother and still need time.
I could understand why she had acted from fear and still wish she had trusted me with my own future.
Both were true.
From the stairs came Ethan’s voice.
“Are you done discussing things I’m not supposed to hear?”
All three of us looked up.
He stood halfway down wearing pajama pants and a T-shirt printed with the periodic table.
“How long have you been there?” I asked.
“Eleven seconds.”
Dad smiled despite everything.
“Precisely?”
“Approximately.”
He came downstairs.
Mom held out her arms, then stopped herself.
“May I?”
Ethan walked into her hug.
She held him gently.
Nothing dramatic.
No speeches.
When she released him, Ethan looked at the folder.
