“Not just tonight?”
“Not just tonight.”
Arthur put it on his shelf.
Then he picked up the baby photograph.
“That one’s yours.”
Elias held out his hand.
His son placed it there.
It felt less like receiving an object than being offered a responsibility he had nearly failed to recognize.
The next morning, Elias asked Clara to speak with him privately.
He began with a question he should have asked before the dinner.
“What have you noticed?”
Clara remained standing for a moment.
Then she sat.
“Arthur stopped mentioning Nora around Felicity.”
“When?”
“Gradually. I thought he was learning which conversations felt comfortable with different people.”
Elias waited.
“Then he asked whether we could read his mother’s stories only when Felicity went out.”
“Did you tell me?”
“I mentioned that he was becoming careful about talking.”
He remembered.
He had asked whether there was trouble at school.
When Clara said she had not found any, he told her to keep him informed.
He never asked another question.
“What else?”
“The school sent a family project home. Arthur wanted to include Nora. Felicity suggested leaving her out because it might confuse people.”
Elias frowned.
“What project?”
“A booklet about the people important to them.”
He looked toward the window.
“Did he leave her out?”
“No. He asked me to keep that page until he knew whether it was allowed.”
Clara opened a folder she had brought.
Inside was a drawing of Nora wearing yellow boots.
Beside her, Arthur wrote three facts.
She liked rain.
She sang the wrong words.
She was my mum.
Elias read the last line twice.
Clara spoke quietly.
“I should have brought this directly to you.”
He looked at her.
“I should have made it easier for you to bring it.”
She did not argue.
That was useful.
He did not need her to protect him from an accurate account of his own home.
“Has Felicity threatened your job?”
“No. But she told me I was keeping him dependent on memories.”
“What did you say?”
