Chapter 14 - The Last Letter from My Mother
Nora died peacefully at seventy-six.
That grief nearly broke me.
She had become family after my mother.
While sorting her apartment, we found one final envelope.
From Eleanor.
Nora had been instructed to give it to me “when Lydia stops fighting ghosts.”
Nora apparently decided death was the deadline.
The letter was short.
Lydia, if you have reached a life where Blackwood is no longer a fortress, Grayson is no longer an enemy, and my piano is no longer a shrine, then you have done better than I did. I spent too much time believing protection meant control. It does not. Love cannot be preserved by hiding truth. I am sorry for every secret you inherited.
I cried for an hour.
Nate sat beside me.
No fixing.
No advice.
Just presence.
Then the final line:
Play during storms. The house was never afraid of thunder. I was.
That night rain arrived.
I opened the windows.
Sat at the Steinway.
Played the lullaby.
Nate beside me.
Lightning flashed over the Hudson.
May you like
For the first time, storms sounded like weather.
Not memory.
