Silence.
"Which Eleanor?"
I told her.
Something clattered.
"Grandma?"
"I'm here."
"She died last month."
Another silence.
Then, quietly, "Oh, Ellie."
I'd never heard her sound like that.
I explained that Eleanor was once under my care.
I couldn't tell her about my feelings.
I visited the following morning.
Grandma took one look at the photograph and started crying.
"We were inseparable," she said. "She used to climb through my bedroom window carrying books."
"What happened?"
She looked down.
"Your grandfather and I had a difficult marriage in the beginning. I was young and frightened. I told Eleanor I was thinking about leaving him."
"And?"
"She told him."
I stared.
"Why?"
"She thought she was helping. She told him I needed reassurance, that he should convince me to stay."
Grandma shook her head.
"He came home furious. Accused me of telling everyone our private business. For weeks, every argument became another fight about what I'd told Eleanor."
"Did you leave him?"
