Chapter 17 - The Last Letter From My Mother
The letter arrived when Grace was six months old.
I almost returned it.
Then I noticed there was no manipulation written across the envelope.
No “Please.”
No “family emergency.”
Just:
Lucas.
I opened it.
The letter was short.
I have spent my life believing that if I controlled everything, nobody could leave me. I was wrong. Control made leaving necessary.
I read that line again.
There were no excuses afterward.
She named what she had done.
To Dad.
To me.
To Sophia.
To Audrey.
She did not ask to see Leo.
She did not ask to meet Grace.
She did not ask for forgiveness.
At the bottom:
I hope your children never fear you the way mine feared me.
I sat on the porch for a long time.
Sophia eventually came outside.
“Bad?”
“I don’t know.”
I handed it to her.
She read it.
Then sat beside me.
“Are you going to answer?”
“Not today.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe never.”
“Okay.”
I looked through the window.
Leo was building something with blocks.
Grace was asleep.
“I don’t hate her.”
Sophia took my hand.
“I know.”
“I thought I would.”
“Hate keeps people connected too.”
That sounded like something Naomi would say.
I smiled.
“You really need new friends.”
Sophia laughed.
I never answered Eleanor’s letter.
But I kept it.
Not for guilt.
For proof.
May you like
People could change enough to recognize what they had done.
That did not mean the people they hurt owed them access again.
