Chapter 12 — What Celestine Should Have Done
Celestine sat across from Roderick.
“I would bring it to you.”
He waited.
“Immediately?”
She thought.
“Yes.”
“Even before knowing whether Mara was telling the truth?”
Celestine nodded.
“I would say exactly that.”
“A woman wrote claiming to be your sister.”
“There are old documents that appear to support it.”
“I don’t know whether everything is real yet.”
“And then I would ask how you wanted to verify it.”
Roderick looked at her carefully.
“And if I said I didn’t want to know?”
“Then that would be your decision.”
He nodded.
“And Mara?”
“I would not meet her first.”
“Good.”
Celestine’s eyes filled.
“I was afraid the discovery would destroy you.”
Roderick looked toward her.
“It hurt.”
“It didn’t destroy me.”
“What hurt worse was learning that once again someone who loved me thought love gave them permission to control what I knew about my own family.”
Celestine lowered her head.
“I became part of the same pattern.”
“Yes.”
The word was difficult.
But necessary.
Celestine continued.
“And Eudora should never have been involved.”
“No.”
“I told myself it was only for a few days.”
“But every day she had to look at you and decide whether speaking would hurt us.”
Roderick nodded.
“That’s what I cannot allow again.”
They created one clear family rule.
Adults did not recruit Eudora into secrecy about other family members.
Surprises such as presents were different.
But if a secret involved:
Fear.
Family conflict.
Someone’s identity.
Someone being hidden.
Or a child being told another adult must not know…
Eudora had permission to tell.
Always.
Celestine agreed.
Not reluctantly.
Completely.
Their marriage did not return to normal overnight.
Roderick was angry for months.
Some conversations ended badly.
Sometimes Celestine became defensive.
Sometimes Roderick used the phrase:
“You already decided for me once.”
And Celestine had to sit with the consequence rather than demand he stop bringing it up.
Trust returned through behavior.
She stopped managing his contact with Mara.
If Mara called, Roderick chose whether to answer.
If Mara visited, she entered through the front door.
If Roderick wanted documents from the archive, he accessed them himself.
Celestine no longer positioned herself as gatekeeper.
Months later, Eudora approached the wardrobe again.
The false panel was now locked.
She looked toward her father.
“Can we see secret room?”
Roderick smiled.
“It’s not a secret room anymore.”
“Can we see history room?”
He liked that better.
“Yes.”
They entered together.
And among the photographs, Eudora found one image Roderick had never noticed before.
It showed five-year-old Roderick holding Mirelle for the first time.
On the back, Isabeau had written one sentence.
HE WON’T PUT HER DOWN.
Roderick stared at it through tears.
The photograph became the final proof that the bond his father tried to erase had existed before either sibling was old enough to understand what was happening.