My aunt had known me with a clarity I had not been able to extend to myself.

I asked Caroline if Eleanor had ever considered telling me everything directly.

“More than once,” she said.

“She wrote notes, tore them up, and worried that intervening in your marriage would make you feel judged.

I think she was wrong to stay silent for so long.

I also think she was trying in the only way she knew.”

I appreciated that answer.

Caroline didn’t ask me to turn Eleanor into a saint.