Page 29 of The Moonlight Healers

Louise thought of Helene, of all she’d endured during the war, the loss of nearly her entire family. She understood why she had lived in fear, and she felt an enormous amount of grief for her, for how lonely it must have been not to be able to trust anyone.

Camille turned off the main road once they reached the orchard. The apple trees swayed in the wind, their twisted limbs weighted down with unripe fruit. “And she always told me that I had to protect myself, protect this ability, because people wouldfind a way to break it if I allowed them in. And so I never told your grandfather either.”

Louise’s grandparents had been divorced since before she was born, so it was harder for her to imagine them together than apart. They were so different too. Her grandfather was incredibly social, friends with half of Charlottesville, where he lived and worked as a lawyer. Whenever Louse visited him on her way home from her grandmother’s house on her monthly visits, it wasn’t unusual for him to have a friend or two over at the house. He divided his time between his tidy, perfectly maintained house in the city and Farmington, the country club right outside of town, and seemed to exist in a different world than the wild orchard and messy house where her grandmother lived.

“Is that why…?”

“Why we got divorced?”

Louise wondered if she had gone too far, but when Camille looked at her, her face was contemplative.

They passed the farm stand and headed up toward the house.

“Part of it, yes. Not the only reason. When we were in college, he was this cute, preppy rich kid and he probably thought I was exotic because I wore Birkenstocks and didn’t have a trust fund.” She winked at Louise. “That was back in my rebellious phase, when I made every decision as long as I thought it would horrify my mother.”

Louise couldn’t picture her grandmother rebelling against Helene. They had always seemed so similar, devoted to their work, and to the orchard, both so strong and independent.

“You had a rebellious phase?”

Camille nodded. “It was brief. But I made it count. I went to school in Richmond. Met your grandfather and broke up with the boy my mother would have chosen for me if given the chance, someone who spent less time at the club and more time working outdoors.” Louise could sense her considering how honest to be. “I also smoked a lot of pot. And to my mother’sgreatest shock, I decided to be an art major. I came to my senses about the career stuff, switched to nursing senior year, even though it meant an extra two years of school. But it took me longer to realize how wrong I’d been about your grandfather. He is a good man, Louise. I would never disparage him to you. But he was never meant for me. And our differences got more pronounced as we got older. And I was never as good as my mother at being two people. She had years of practice after all, during the occupation. I think your grandfather always sensed that I was holding back. He was patient, for years, but in the end, he needed more from me than I could give him.”

Camille parked the car next to the house and shifted in her seat. “It’s a lot to process. I know. But you were wonderful back there, Louise. You really helped Sarah. It seemed very natural, for you to take care of her like that.” Camille’s smile faded. “But of course, you took care of your mother. For all those years. When I couldn’t.”

Louise didn’t respond at first. Camille never mentioned that time in their lives. It had become an unspoken agreement between them, and Louise was shocked to hear her grandmother bring up the old wound, to acknowledge her part in it.

“You tried,” Louise said simply.

“I could have tried harder.”

The crunch of gravel sounded behind them as Bobbie pulled in the driveway.

“Well,” Camille said with a glance in the rearview mirror. She wiped her eyes quickly. “Time for lunch.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Louise sat stiffly on the screen porch across from her mother while her grandmother busied herself making lunch in the kitchen.

“I got back here as quickly as I could,” Bobbie said. “I probably shouldn’t have… I could have rescheduled the work stuff.I’m sorry. I panicked. You know that’s sort of my thing in these situations. Remember when I volunteered to be on the PTA and didn’t even make it through the first meeting?”

Louise tried to smile, but she couldn’t force it. She was so unaccustomed to being angry with her, not like this, not in a way that felt suffocating. But after that morning, seeing the journal, healing Sarah, Louise also couldn’t deny how hurt she was, by her mother’s choice to keep it all from her, to act as though this essential part of Louise was irrelevant, to let her make plans for her life, create an entire future without the basic facts of her existence.

“How was your morning?” Bobbie asked gently.

A slight breeze rippled through the porch. Louise heard the twinkle of wind chimes in the backyard, the soft rustle of tree branches.

“I helped Sarah Henley,” she said bluntly. She wanted to see the shock on her mother’s face, have her feel what it was like to have your world upturned. “She’s dying of cancer and I helped her.”

Bobbie went rigid. “What do you mean?”

Louise sat up taller. “I touched her and took away her pain.”

Bobbie grimaced. “That’s too much for you to take on. You’re eighteen. You shouldn’t be thinking about death or suffering. I know I agreed, but clearly that was a mistake. I don’t want you to be…”

“Like Grandma,” Louise finished for her.

“That’s not what I was going to say. That’s not fair. Don’t put that on me.”

“Fine.” Louise leaned back in the wicker chair, completely exhausted. She thought of the journal on the bookshelf, the flowers in the garden, the missing pieces of her life that had been given to her that day. All that her mother was willing to keep hidden, locked away like old family photo albums in an attic.

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