I watch as she bends her head to sip her coffee, knowing my next words will hurt her, knowing, too, that the things we need to hear often do. “Rory said the same thing once,” I say quietly. “That she wasn’t the daughter you wanted.”
Her head comes up slowly, and I see that the remark has shaken her. “Aurora thinks . . .” Her eyes pool with tears. “But it isn’t true. I’m so proud of her. So proud. She’s brave and beautiful and knows exactly what she wants to do and be.” Her words thicken, and she blinks away her tears. “She’s the me I wish I’d had the courage to be when I was her age.”
“Why doesn’t she know that?”
The question stings, but it needed to be asked. She puts her cup down and wipes beneath both eyes, careful of her makeup. “I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve held on to her too tightly. To protect her, I told myself, but that wasn’t it. That was never it. I tried to clip her wings and keep her close. So I would . . . have someone. When Hux disappeared, she withdrew from me, from everything, really. I tried to pull her back, to reach her, but she just kept getting further and further away. And then she met you, and it was like she was alive again. And the gallery . . . all of a sudden that was back on, and she was talking about her art. I know how petty this must sound, but it felt like you were trying to take her away, and she’s all I have. That’s why I acted the way I did, because I was jealous. And afraid.”
Her eyes drift from mine, sliding toward the horizon. I study her, her profile so familiar I feel as if I’ve always known her. She is so much like Rory, and yet she’s different too. On the outside she’s cool and polished, but beneath all that perfection there are layers of pain. I feel my heart take a step toward her.
“No one can take her away from you, Camilla. She’s your daughter. You’re bound for life, and by something that runs much deeper than blood and shared memories. You’re bound by your echoes.”
She turns back, a little crease between her brows. “Echoes?”
I smile, because she looks like she needs a smile. “It’s something my mother used to say. She believed we each possess an echo, a kind of spiritual fingerprint, and that those echoes connect us to the ones we love, binding us forever.”
Her eyes hold mine, wide and still shiny with tears. I can’t read what’s in them, but I feel a kind of yearning in her, a need to speak, and yet there’s a reluctance. “Do you . . . believe it?” she asks finally. “The part about the echoes binding us forever, I mean?”
Her voice is thick, choked with emotion, and I realize with a start that she has laid herself bare to me, like a child. There’s a sudden ache in my throat, a tightness that makes it hard to breathe. I’m confused, almost dizzy, but she’s still looking at me, still waiting for a reply.
Before I can think of how to answer, Camilla sets her cup down abruptly and pops up out of her chair. She looks nervous, almost guilty. “That’s the door. Aurora’s here.”
She’s preparing to step away when Rory suddenly appears in the doorway. She looks vaguely stricken as our eyes meet, both glad and afraid, and I realize her mother hasn’t told her I’d be here. She’s holding a large manila envelope. She tucks it beneath her arm and shoots Camilla a look. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, good, you’re here,” Camilla says, managing to sound both flustered and pleased. “Soline and I were just having a little chat.”
Rory glances in my direction, then narrows her eyes at her mother. “We talked about this.”
“No, no. We were just getting to know one another. You know, girl talk.”
“Your message said to get here as soon as I could. I thought something had happened.”
“Only because I knew you’d want to see Soline. I thought it would be nice for the three of us to get together for brunch.”
“Except we talked about this. What are you up to?”
Rory has lowered her voice, but her words carry on the breeze. She’s angry. Camilla turns, peering at me anxiously over her shoulder. She tries to smile and once again misses. I can’t help feeling there’s a conversation involving me taking place, one to which I am not to be made privy.
“Please.” Camilla catches Rory’s hand, holding it in both of hers. “I’m trying to make things right, Rory. I remember what you said. I remember every word. I just want us to be . . .” Her voice trails as she lets go of her daughter’s hand. “I want us all to be . . . friends. Good, good friends. Now, go talk to Soline while I serve up the food.”