My uncle left. In the living room, only Mom and Julian were left.
Julian came over and sat beside her. He took her cold hand.
"Eleanor, I know you're in pain. I know you feel dirty."
Mom's fingers trembled. "…You've got it wrong."
Julian looked at her, his eyes gentle and sure. "What I mean is—you're clean."
Mom finally reacted. She turned her head, slow, to look at him.
"In that hell, you still raised a daughter that brave. That certain of what was right. That full of love for you." Julian's voice shook. "She was eleven, and she already understood sacrifice, and freedom. She traded her life for yours. Eleanor, you're the strongest, finest person I've ever known. The one who isn't clean isn't you. It's this world."
I cried my eyes out beside them.
'Thank you, Julian.'
"I waited al
