"Then we sit here for a while," Bear replied. "And you decide whether you want to try again another day. But you won't have to sit by yourself."
Evelyn pressed the call button. The telephone rang long enough for her to imagine that Clare had decided not to answer. Then a woman's voice said hello, slightly lower and more tired than Evelyn remembered. The sound of it brought back a thousand ordinary memories at once: arguments about homework, laughter in the garden, a little girl calling from the bedroom because she needed one more glass of water.
"Clare?" Evelyn whispered. "It's Mom."
There was silence, followed by a sharp intake of breath. "Mom? Is that really you?"
Evelyn nodded, forgetting that her daughter could not see her. She tried to speak, then began to cry. On the other end of the call, Clare made a sound that was half relief and half disbelief, the kind a person makes when something she has wanted for years arrives without warning. For a moment they listened to each other breathe, uncertain which words could carry the weight between them.
"I've been trying to reach you," Clare said at last. "Your number stopped working. I wrote letters. I thought you had decided you never wanted to hear from me again."
"I didn't know," Evelyn said. "There were letters?"
Clare explained that some had been returned and others had apparently disappeared. She had called the old line, tried a neighbor, and once contacted the care agency after learning Evelyn had hired help. She had been told her mother needed privacy and did not wish to be disturbed. The answer had hurt, but it had seemed consistent with the anger she remembered from the last time they spoke.
Evelyn gripped the edge of the table. She told Clare that Brenda had changed the telephone number, kept the mail, and refused visits. Then she told her about the money, the medication, the bruises, the bedroom lock, and the walk to Joe's Diner. She spoke without trying to make herself sound brave, because the truth was that she had been frightened almost every moment and had come to the diner only when she thought staying silent might kill her.
Clare listened without interruption until Evelyn reached the part about the hospital. Then she began asking questions with the focused urgency of a daughter who also knew how to care for patients. Had a physician seen her, had the medications been verified, was she having chest pain, and was someone staying with her tonight? Evelyn answered each question as well as she could, and Bear quietly supplied the name of the medical team when she asked him for help.
"I'm coming," Clare said when the immediate questions were answered. "I'll find a flight and come as soon as I can."
"You don't have to leave your boys," Evelyn replied, the old fear of becoming a burden rising automatically.
"Mom, I want to come. That's different. I have people who can help with Tyler and Mason. Please let me make that choice."