Chapter 14
Anthony visited my office carrying the repaired dinner bell.
I stared.
“I didn’t ask you to fix it.”
“No.”
He placed it on the desk.
“I did.”
The brass had been polished lightly.
The dent remained.
The base repaired.
No electronics.
He slid it toward me.
“I spent thirty years defending Hawthorne.”
I said nothing.
“My father sent me there at eleven.”
Of course.
“You liked it?”
“No.”
“Then why defend it?”
Anthony laughed bitterly.
“Because if Hawthorne was wrong, then the adults I worshipped were wrong.”
There.
Family mythology again.
He continued.
“And if they were wrong, maybe some things I called strength were just fear I learned to admire.”
I looked at the bell.
“Why repair this?”
He shrugged.
“Because breaking an object Beatrice corrupted seemed too much like letting her own it forever.”
Interesting.
I touched the brass.
The device cavity had been filled.
No place left to hide another transmitter without obvious modification.
Not symbolism.
Practicality.
Good.
I took the bell home.
Did not put it on the sideboard.
I showed Nina.
She stopped.
“Old bell.”
“Yes.”
“Bug?”
“No.”
I opened the base.
Empty.
She inspected it seriously.
Then tapped the top lightly.
A clear note rang through the room.
She jumped.
Then laughed.
My chest tightened.
“You want it back?”
She thought.
“No.”
Good.
Her choice.
I placed it on a high shelf in the family room.
Not forbidden.
Not necessary.
Just there.
Over the following months, Nina occasionally rang it for fun.
Never because I required it.
Never because Beatrice told her when.
Sometimes she shouted instead.
Usually louder.
May you like
The bell slowly became boring.
That was exactly what I wanted.
