“I didn’t know,” he spoke finally, his voice stripped down to something I hadn’t heard from him in years.
“I know you didn’t.”
We stayed on the phone a while, letting the silence do the talking.
I forgave Dan not because what he did was petty, but because our mother had spent her last night on earth trying to make sure we were never divided.
I forgave Dan not because what he did was petty.
I called Will the next morning and told him I had some family history to share with Claire when they were ready. He said they’d come for dinner on Sunday. I told him I’d make the lemon pie again.
I looked up at the ceiling the way you do when you’re talking to someone who isn’t there anymore.
“It’s coming back into the family, Mom,” I said softly. “Through Will’s girl. She’s a good one.”
I could’ve sworn the house felt a little warmer after that.
