Chapter 34
Oceans
Lenzin
Leah Margarethe von Hohenwald rarely travels anymore; as a matter of fact, this trip never happened.
If my parents knew she was flying across the Atlantic alone, they would assume it meant she was well enough to travel whenever she pleased.
Which would mean accepting invitations to appearances, charity events, and being around too many people, something she has always avoided, and now I understand why.
Grossmutter has spent the better part of her life on the estate; she preferred a simple life.
Only she could orchestrate something like this without anyone noticing until it was already done.
Behind me, Lucy’s voice carries as I enter the house, “Daddy?”
I turn and see her coming down the stairs, on her bottom, which Hildy insists she does when we are not with her.
Her hair half escaping the braid Hildy put in it this morning, the stuffed rabbit —a Steiff, of course— that Grossmutter gave her is tucked under her arm as it has already been part of Lucy’s life for years instead of a day and a half.
“Did Oma get on her plane yet?”
“She has,” I say, picking her up, loving that she calls her Oma, and loving it even more how her eyes sparkled when Lucy called her that.
Lucy nods like this information fits neatly into whatever system her three-year-old brain uses to understand the world. “She said we have to come see her castle.”
I can’t help but grin at her adorable face. “It’s not a castle.”
Lucy gives me the unimpressed look children reserve for adults who clearly don’t know anything. “She said it has towers.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, and finally concede, “Yes, towers.”
“She said I can ride the horses.” She states.
“She probably meant the ponies.”
Lucy considers this. “I like horses better.”
Of course she does.
Hildy appears from the kitchen and leans her shoulder against the doorway with that soft smile she gets when Lucy asserts herself with complete confidence.
Grossmutter had been an open book with Hildy when she arrived, and when we returned from the arena, she asked her questions in that calm way that somehow always reveals more than people intend to share. Hildy answered every one of them.
By the second day, she was sitting beside Hildy on the couch, poring over documents Hildy had found and put into binders. She was reliving her life with Lucy between them, as if they had known each other for years.
By the time she left today, she had both of them completely charmed, which, if I’m honest, does not surprise me. Grossmutter has always been like that.
Soft voice, sharp mind. The kind of presence that makes people lean closer without realizing they are doing it.
“She made you promise, didn’t she?” I ask Hildy.
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “About Germany?”
I nod.
Lucy answers before she can. “We have to bring the babies.”
“Yes,” Hildy laughs under her breath, glancing at me. “She made us promise.”
I lean over and kiss her cheek. “And you agreed?”
Lucy nods emphatically. “I want to see the towers.”
“She said as soon as we’re able,” Hildy adds softly. “Not right away.”
To me, it was, “You will bring them.” Not a request, not quite an order either, just certainty, like she already knew it would happen.
“She liked you,” I tell Hildy.
That same small smile returns. “I liked her too.”
Lucy squeezes the rabbit under her arm and looks between us. “She said babies like Germany.”
I glance at Hildy. “Did she say that?”
Hildy nods, amused. “She said the air is good for children. And the forests.”
That sounds exactly like her, “She doesn’t love city life.”
Lucy brightens suddenly. “Can we go before Christmas?”
“It will have to be during the off-season, so yes.”
“Okay.” She wiggles, and I take the cue and set her back on her feet, and she heads toward the living room.
Hildy watches her go. “She was wonderful with her.”
“I know.” I pull her into the foyer
“And with me.”
That one surprises me less than she probably thinks. My Grossmutter has spent a lifetime observing people. She knew exactly who Hildy was within the first hour, and so did I.
“You realize what she just did,” I say after kissing her properly.
Hildy tilts her head.
“What?”
I gesture vaguely toward the sky where, somewhere far above the clouds by now, a plane is carrying her back across the Atlantic.
“She just made sure our children will grow up knowing where they come from.”
Hildy studies me for a second, then she squeezes my hand. “Good.”
I grip her hips and pull her closer, loving that her belly bumps me first, “Shall we call it a night or head to Boston, get a room, and be lazy all day tomorrow until it’s time for the game?”
She immediately yawns, and I can’t help but laugh. She rests her forehead on my chest. “Can I sleep while we drive?”
“Of course.”
The highway is quiet once we leave the city behind, and the sun is putting on a spectacular show of pinks and oranges, blues and reds. Lucy points out every color. The excitement she gains from learning brings me so much joy.
Hildy is curled into the passenger seat beside me, already pulling the blanket we brought from the bag and setting it over her legs. The twins make her tired in ways she still tries to pretend they don’t. She’s truly remarkable, truly.
Lucy sits behind us, buckled into her seat with the kind of serious concentration only small children can give something as simple as arranging their treasures.
I glance at her in the rearview mirror. She’s holding both of them. Oma’s rabbit tucked under one arm, Axel the axolotl under the other.
The rabbit is the new favorite. I can’t even be annoyed.
Grossmutter had placed it in Lucy’s hands this morning before she left, pointing to the tiny metal button stitched carefully into its ear like it was a secret. From Germany, she had said.
Lucy had taken that very seriously.
“I got a new bunny,” she announces from the backseat.
“Yes, you did,” Hildy says softly.
“And a new grandma.”
Hildy laughs quietly, turning slightly in her seat so she can see her. “You did.”
Lucy nods, as if this is a perfectly reasonable development. “She lives in the castle with the horses.”
“Estate,” I correct automatically.
Lucy ignores me, which makes me chuckle a little.
“I’m gonna bring Bunny when we go there.”
“You probably should,” Hildy says.
Lucy considers this, hugging the rabbit tighter. “And Axel.”
“Axel too.” Hildy agrees.
Satisfied, Lucy settles deeper into her seat.
The quiet hum of the tires on the pavement seems to rock her asleep almost immediately.
I glance back again. The rabbit’s ear is sticking out from under Lucy’s chin. The axolotl is halfway under her arm.
Hildy watches her for a moment before leaning back against the seat.
“She really did love Lucy,” she says softly.
“My Grossmutter has excellent taste.”
Hildy smiles faintly and pulls the blanket a little higher.
“Sleep, Schatz.”
The road stretches ahead of us, long and empty. For a while, neither of us says anything. Then, just as Hildy’s breathing begins to slow the way it does when she’s about to drift off, her phone rings. The sound is sharp in the quiet car.
She frowns slightly, blinking at the screen.
“Erin,” she says.
She answers and puts the call on speaker. “Hey.”
There’s a pause.
Then Erin’s voice comes through the car speakers, tight and serious. “Are you sitting down?”
Hildy straightens a little, concern etched in her voice. “Yes.”
“Are you with Lenzin?” Erin asks.
“Yes, we’re on our way to Boston.”
Another pause.
“I’m sending you an email,” Erin says. “Call me when you get back into town.”
The line goes dead before Hildy can say anything else.
She looks at the phone in her hand for a second.
“That was… weird.”
“Check your email,” I say quietly.
She opens it. The screen’s glow lights her face as she scrolls. At first, she just reads. Then her hand flies to her mouth. A sound escapes her. Not loud. Just a sharp breath that immediately turns into tears.
“Hildy?”
She shakes her head slightly, still staring at the screen. “Oh, my God.”
My stomach tightens. “What is it?”
She swipes again, then turns the phone slightly so she can read aloud, her voice trembling.
“It’s from my mother.” The words sound like they’re being dragged out of her chest.
“I am the biological mother of Lucy Sullivan…” Her voice breaks.
“This letter serves as my voluntary relinquishment of all parental rights and responsibilities for my daughter, Lucy Sullivan…” Hildy’s tears fall freely now as she reads the next lines.
“I acknowledge that Lucy has been living under the care and protection of Lenzin Faulker and Hildy Sullivan. I believe it is in Lucy’s best interest for Lenzin Faulker and Hildy Sullivan to assume permanent legal guardianship and parental responsibility… ”
She stops reading.
The phone trembles slightly in her hand.
I pull the car onto the shoulder without thinking.
The engine idles quietly.
“Hildy.”
She looks at me through tears, shaking her head like she still can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.
“She signed it,” she whispers.
Behind us, Lucy shifts in her sleep, the rabbit still tucked under her chin.
Hildy presses her hand to her mouth again.
“She signed it.”