Chapter 6: What Ruth Knew
Ruth sat in the chair beside my bed and held the yellow flowers in her lap and didn't put them down for the entire conversation, as if she needed something to hold.
"Your mother came to my door three times in the last year of her life," she said.
"The first time, she asked if she could use my phone.
She said hers wasn't working.
I let her in and made tea and she called someone — I don't know who — and spoke very quietly for about ten minutes.
When she hung up she thanked me and left."
"What was the second time?" I asked.
"She brought me an envelope.
She asked me to keep it somewhere safe.
She said —" Ruth paused.
"She said, 'If anything happens to me, give this to my daughter.
Not to Walter.
To my daughter.' I promised her I would."
The room was very quiet.
Nora shifted in the bassinet.
"Ruth," I said carefully.
"Do you still have it?"
She reached into her coat pocket and placed a small envelope on the bed beside me.
It was sealed.
My name was on the front in my mother's handwriting.
My hands didn't shake this time.
I think I had used up all my shaking.
Inside was a single folded page and a small key.
The page said: *Safety deposit box.
First National on Clement Street.
Box 447.
The key is yours.
I should have done this sooner.
I'm sorry, my love.
Everything in that box is documented.
Don't let him tell you it isn't.*
"What was the third time she came to your door?" I asked.
Ruth looked at the flowers in her lap.
"Two weeks before she passed.
She was very thin by then.
She sat at my kitchen table and she said, 'Ruth, I made a mistake marrying him.
I knew it within the first year.
But I stayed because of my daughter, and then I stayed because I was afraid, and then I stayed because I didn't know how not to.' She said, 'My daughter doesn't know any of this.
She thinks her father is difficult but not —'" Ruth stopped.
"Not what?" I said.
"She said, 'Not dangerous.'"
I looked at the key in my palm.
"She loved you very much," Ruth said.
"She talked about you constantly.
She said you had Owen and that made her feel better about everything.
She said Owen would take care of you."
"He did," I said.
"He really did."
Ruth finally set the flowers on the bedside table.
She stood up slowly, the way people do when their joints have started to have opinions.
"I should have come sooner.
After she passed, I told myself it wasn't my place.
That families sort things out.
I'm sorry I waited."
"You came now," I said.
"That matters."
She nodded.
At the door she paused.
"Your mother used to say you were the best thing she ever did." She looked at Nora.
"I think she'd say it runs in the family."
After she left I sat for a long time with the key in my hand.
Then I called Marcus.
"I need you to go to a safety deposit box," I said.
"First National on Clement Street.
Box 447.
I'll explain everything.
But Marcus — whatever is in there, I think my mother spent the last year of her life making sure Walter couldn't destroy it."
A long pause.
"I'll go first thing tomorrow morning," he said.
"Are you alright?"
I looked at Nora.
May you like
She had one small fist pressed against her cheek, sleeping the deep, uncomplicated sleep of someone who had not yet learned that the world was complicated.
"I think I'm starting to be," I said.
