PART 20 – When the Director Returned With a Firmer Answer, I Realized That Understanding My Husband Would Not Make My Son’s Choices Any Less Serious

Dr. Reyes returned the following afternoon.

I had spent the morning reading, drinking tea, and trying not to check my phone.

When she knocked, I closed the book and set it on the bed.

"Come in."

She entered carrying the folder I had seen before.

This time, she seemed prepared to give me a clearer account of what she had learned.

She sat beside the bed.

"Mrs. Dunmore, I've continued reviewing the historical information about Willow Creek."

I waited.

"I have a better understanding of why your husband's name is associated with the building, although there are still details I need to confirm."

I felt my heart beat faster.

"Please tell me what you can."

She opened the folder.

She explained that the plaque at the entrance was part of the center's history and that Frank's name had been preserved there because of his connection to that history.

I listened closely.

She was careful not to claim more than the information supported.

I appreciated that, even though I wanted every detail immediately.

"So Frank's name belongs there for a reason."

"Yes."

I looked toward the photograph.

I felt a small, unexpected warmth in my chest.

He had never told me.

But someone had remembered him.

I wondered what he would have said if he had known that I would one day stand beneath that plaque.

Probably something ordinary.

He might have shrugged and asked whether I wanted to go home for supper.

That thought made me smile.

Dr. Reyes noticed.

"You're thinking about him."

"I am."

I touched the edge of the photograph.

"He never liked making a fuss about himself."

She nodded.

"I can understand why that would make this discovery surprising."

"It is."

I looked at her.

"But I don't want this to distract from the reason I'm here."

"It won't."

She closed the folder.

"Your concerns about your admission are separate, and I will continue addressing them."

I felt relieved.

I had worried that Frank's connection to the building might become the most interesting thing about me to everyone who heard the story.

I did not want to become a footnote in my husband's history.

I was Margaret Dunmore.

I had my own life, my own wishes, and my own questions.

I needed those to matter.

Dr. Reyes asked whether I had received any communication from Scott.

"No."

"Or from Heather?"

"No."

She wrote that down.

I could tell she understood that their silence was not a minor inconvenience.

It had left me without the information I needed to understand my own circumstances.

I asked whether she had found anything more about the authority Scott claimed to have.

She explained that she was still reviewing the documents available to the center.

She did not promise an outcome.

She did promise to keep my account of the temporary arrangement in the record.

I thanked her.

Then I asked whether there was anything I could do myself while I waited.

She suggested that I continue gathering the information I remembered about the papers Scott had shown me.

She also said I should keep track of the dates and conversations that concerned my admission.

I told her I had already begun writing them down.

"That's helpful," she said.

I reached into the drawer and showed her the folded sheet.

She read the questions I had written.

When she finished, she returned the paper to me.

"You've been very clear about what you need to know."

"I had to be. Nobody else was going to ask those questions for me."

She nodded.

There was no argument.

After she left, I sat beside the window.

I looked out at the roses and the fountain.

The building seemed less mysterious than it had when I arrived.

It was still unfamiliar.

I still didn't know when I would leave.

But I no longer believed that every answer depended on Scott deciding to speak to me.

There were other people who could examine the paperwork.

There were questions I could ask.

There were facts I could insist on seeing.

I had spent too many days feeling that my life had been taken out of my hands.

I wanted to take back whatever part of it I could.

That evening, I picked up my phone and looked at Scott's number.

I did not call.

I had already tried enough times.

If he wanted to explain himself, he knew how to reach me.

I set the phone down and turned toward Frank's photograph.

I felt proud of him.

I also felt sad that I had learned something about his connection to Willow Creek only after I had been brought there under false pretenses.

Those feelings could exist together.

I did not need to choose one.

I could be grateful for whatever Frank had done and still demand an explanation for what Scott had done to me.

I could love my son and still refuse to excuse his silence.

And I could remain frightened about the future without giving up on the possibility of understanding it.

I placed the photograph carefully beside the plastic cup.

Then I opened my book again.

For the first time in days, I managed to read several pages without looking toward the door.

I was still waiting for answers.

But I was no longer waiting without a plan.

Click here to continue reading: PART 21: I Stopped Waiting for My Son to Call and Asked the Director to Put Every Unanswered Question in Writing