“He told her you weren’t going anywhere. That you’re always her mother.”
“And?”
“Amelia asked why you weren’t included in the family part.”
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
Apparently Ryan didn’t have an answer.
Then my mother stepped in.
That didn’t surprise me.
“What did Mom say?”
“She told Amelia that grown-ups can belong to different families.”
I knew my daughter.Marriage
“Oh no.”
“Yeah.”
“What did Amelia say?”
Nora almost laughed.
“She looked straight at your mother and said, ‘You told Mom family supports family.’”
My eyes filled.
“And then?”
“She asked why Aunt Lina didn’t have to support you.”
I covered my mouth.
For months, my mother had used family as an argument against me.
Family forgives.
Family supports one another.
Family shows up.
My nine-year-old daughter had apparently noticed the same contradiction I had stopped bothering to point out.
“Where is she now?”
“Outside.”
“Is she crying?”
“A little.”
“I’m coming.”
“Annie, there’s more.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should know what happened.”
“What?”
“Amelia picked up her candle.”
I waited.
“Ryan told her they needed it for the ceremony.”
“And?”
“She said, ‘It’s mine.’ Then she walked out.”
That got me moving.
I called our neighbor across the street.
My children had known her their entire lives, and she agreed to stay with them.
Ten minutes later, I was driving toward the venue.
