Chapter 5 - THE GIRL WITH THE MOON
Lucy Reed did not look like Helen.
Not at first.
She had short dark hair cut unevenly above her shoulders, a black hoodie, worn jeans, and the guarded expression of someone who had learned that adults usually entered rooms wanting something.
Then she crossed her arms.
Richard saw his sister immediately.
The same defiance.
The same raised chin.
The same way fear turned into anger before anyone could notice it.
Detective Blake had arranged the meeting in a small office at the Lakewood youth shelter.
Anna sat beside Richard.
Michael had wanted to come.
Richard had refused.
This first meeting belonged to Lucy.
She entered, saw Anna, and stopped.
“Aunt Anna?”
Anna stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“Lucy.”
The girl’s face broke.
For one second, she was not fifteen.
She was seven again.
She crossed the room and threw herself into Anna’s arms.
Anna sobbed.
“I looked for you.”
Lucy clung harder.
“I thought you forgot.”
“Never.”
Richard looked away.
Some reunions did not need witnesses.
When Lucy finally pulled back, she saw him.
Her face changed instantly.
“No.”
Anna turned.
“Lucy.”
“No.”
She backed toward the door.
“You brought him?”
Richard stood.
“I can leave.”
“Good.”
“I only wanted to—”
“You wanted what?”
Her eyes flashed.
“To see what happened after you threw my mom away?”
The words hit exactly where they should.
Richard nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Lucy looked startled.
He continued.
“That’s part of it.”
“I don’t need your guilt.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“You’re right.”
Anna touched Lucy’s arm.
The girl pulled away.
“My mother spent her whole life thinking she wasn’t good enough for him.”
Richard’s face tightened.
“She was good enough.”
Lucy laughed.
“Little late.”
“Yes.”
Again, she seemed unprepared for agreement.
Richard had spent a lifetime defending himself.
For once, there was nothing worth defending.
Lucy’s hand moved unconsciously to the silver pendant around her neck.
The moon.
Richard noticed.
“May I see it?”
“No.”
“That’s fair.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You really are weird.”
Anna nearly laughed through her tears.
Richard accepted the insult.
Lucy looked at Anna.
“Where’s Helen?”
Anna’s face changed.
Richard understood before she said it.
Lucy knew her younger sister existed.
But not what had happened.
“She’s in the hospital.”
Lucy’s anger disappeared.
“What?”
“She has pneumonia.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s improving.”
“I want to see her.”
“We can go.”
Lucy looked at Richard.
“You’re not coming.”
Richard nodded.
“All right.”
That afternoon, Lucy met her little sister for the first time.
Richard watched through the glass from the hallway.
Helen stared at the teenager as if a storybook character had stepped into the room.
Lucy approached slowly.
Helen touched her own locket.
“Do you have the moon?”
Lucy froze.
Then she reached beneath her hoodie.
The crescent pendant appeared.
Anna covered her mouth.
Lucy’s hands shook.
Helen opened her locket and removed the half-star.
Lucy unclasped the moon.
The two pieces slid together.
A perfect circle.
Helen grinned.
“Mama said they fit.”
Lucy began crying.
She sat on the bed and hugged her sister.
Richard turned away.
Michael stood beside him.
“You’re crying again.”
Richard wiped his face.
“This family has become very judgmental about that.”
Michael smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“Is Lucy going to live with us?”
Richard looked at him.
“We don’t know.”
“Can she?”
“If she wants to.”
Michael thought.
“You have enough rooms.”
“That’s not the complicated part.”
“It is for rich people.”
Richard almost laughed.
Children had an irritating way of reducing adult complexity to obvious truths.
That evening, Lucy agreed to speak with Richard again.
This time, Helen and Michael were there.
The presence of younger children seemed to restrain everyone.
Richard placed a folder on the table.
“What’s that?” Lucy asked.
“Nothing you have to sign.”
“Good.”
“It’s information.”
“About?”
“You.”
Her expression hardened.
“I don’t need a file.”
“No. You need choices.”
Richard pushed the folder toward her.
Inside were school records, legal documents, and information about her current wardship.
“I spoke to a family attorney.”
Lucy snapped it shut.
“You’re trying to adopt me?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“I’m trying to understand what you want.”
She stared.
“No adult has asked you that enough.”
Silence.
“What if I say I want nothing from you?”
“Then I respect it.”
“What if I want money?”
“Then we talk about why.”
“What if I want to live with Anna?”
Richard glanced at Anna.
“If she can be approved and that’s what both of you want, I’ll help.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes.
“You’d pay for it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because money is useful when it gives people choices.”
She gave a humorless smile.
“My mom said you thought money solved everything.”
“She was right.”
“And now?”
“Now I think it only solves problems that actually cost money.”
Lucy studied him.
Richard continued.
“It cannot fix what I did to Helen.”
For the first time, the teenager’s anger softened.
Not forgiveness.
Recognition.
Then she asked the question he had dreaded.
“Did you love her?”
Richard looked down.
“Yes.”
“You abandoned her.”
“Yes.”
“So which one was true?”
The room went silent.
Richard looked at Helen.
At Lucy.
At Michael.
Then back at the girl asking something adults often refused to understand.
“Both.”
Lucy’s face tightened.
“I loved her and still failed her.”
His voice cracked.
“People like to believe love automatically makes them brave. It doesn’t.”
Anna looked away.
Richard continued.
“I loved your mother. And when loving her required me to risk my reputation, I chose myself.”
Lucy’s eyes filled.
“I can’t make that untrue.”
She whispered, “She waited for you.”
Richard’s breathing stopped.
“How do you know?”
“She wrote letters.”
He stared.
“What letters?”
Lucy stood.
“I have them.”
Anna gasped.
“You do?”
Lucy nodded.
“When Brighton House closed, one counselor gave me a box they’d kept in storage.”
Richard’s heart pounded.
“She wrote to me?”
Lucy looked directly at him.
“Every birthday.”
His face crumpled.
“For how long?”
“Until she died.”
Richard could not speak.
Lucy continued.
“She never mailed them.”
“Why?”
“Because she said she hated you.”
A tear slipped down Richard’s face.
Lucy’s voice softened.
“And because she still loved you.”
Later that night, Richard sat alone in his car outside the hospital.
Lucy had agreed to let him read one letter.
Only one.
It was dated eight years earlier.
Dear Richard,
Lucy asked today if she has an uncle.
I said yes.
She asked if you were kind.
I didn’t know what to say.
So I told her you used to cut the crusts off my sandwiches when Mom forgot.
I don’t know if that makes you kind.
Maybe it just means people can be good in one moment and terrible in another.
I wish you had chosen one version of yourself and stayed that way.
Richard folded the letter.
He pressed it against his mouth and cried.
Then his phone rang.
Victor.
Richard almost ignored it.
He answered.
“What?”
Victor’s voice was urgent.
“Someone broke into my house.”
Richard’s grief sharpened into attention.
“And?”
“The safe is empty.”
“What was inside?”
Victor hesitated.
Richard went cold.
“What did you lose?”
“The original ledger.”
Richard sat upright.
“You told me you never found it.”
“I lied.”
“Of course you did.”
“Richard, listen to me. Whoever has that ledger can destroy half the people who funded Brighton House.”
“Good.”
“No.”
May you like
Victor’s voice dropped.
“Because one of the names in that book is yours.”
