Chapter 12 - PHOEBE'S LETTERClaire had never opened it.
“I couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because after she died, I wanted to keep one thing from her that was still unopened.”
I stared at my daughter's handwriting.
My hands shook.
Claire pushed the envelope toward me.
“It's yours.”
“No.”
She looked confused.
“Phoebe gave it to you.”
“I don't deserve it.”
“That isn't your decision.”
Her eyes filled.
I pushed it back.
“If my daughter wanted you to read it, read it.”
Claire opened the envelope.
Inside was a single page.
She read silently.
Then began crying.
“What does it say?”
Claire handed it to me.
Phoebe had written about worth.
About surviving abandonment.
About refusing to measure yourself by whether another person stays.
And near the end, one sentence stopped me.
Love is not a prize you win by defeating somebody else.
I closed my eyes.
Phoebe had understood Claire years before any of us did.
Claire whispered:
“I became everything she tried to teach me not to become.”
“Then become something else.”
She looked at me.
“Is it that simple?”
“No.”
I folded the letter.
“But it is that possible.”
Claire left without asking about Margot.
That mattered.
She finally understood that repentance does not entitle you to access.
Three years passed.
Margot turned nine.
Hannah and Emmett had a baby boy.
They named him Samuel.
Before he was born, Emmett sat Margot down.
“You know something?”
“What?”
“You were my first baby.”
Margot rolled her eyes.
“I'm not a baby.”
“You'll be sixty and you'll still be my baby.”
“That's embarrassing.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“Will you love Samuel more?”
Emmett's face softened.
“No.”
“Because hearts aren't pies?”
He laughed.
“Exactly.”
She nodded.
“Grandpa taught me that.”
I pretended not to hear from the kitchen.
A few months later, another letter arrived.
This one was addressed to Margot.
From Claire.
She was nine now.
Old enough to recognize the name.
She found the envelope before we could hide it.
“Grandpa?”
I turned.
May you like
She held it up.
“Who is Claire?”
