For one second, pure relief crossed her face.
Then guilt replaced it.
I stood.
“Go.”
She hesitated.
Then guilt replaced it.
“Grace—”
“Go to your daughter.”
She came toward me and stopped, unsure whether she should touch me.
So I hugged her first.
She held me tightly.
So I hugged her first.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
I pulled back.
“Don’t thank me.”
She looked confused.
“This wasn’t my decision.”
She looked confused.
I held up Mary’s letter.
“It was hers.”
Ellen cried harder.
“Then I’ll never forget her.”
I believed her.
Ellen cried harder.
Mark put his hand over mine.
“We won’t let Sophie forget her either.”
That sentence hurt.
But it also gave me something I hadn’t expected.
Mary would exist in another family’s stories.
But it also gave me something I hadn’t expected.
Not as a tragedy.
As the girl who gave their daughter another chance.
Ellen and Mark followed the nurse down the hallway.
