“Neither do I.”
“That almost makes it worse.”
“How?”
“Because I knew her.”
David shook his head.
“You knew parts of her.”
Michael looked down.
“So did Lily.”
The missing wedding money was eventually returned through a settlement.
Michael refused to pursue criminal charges after his attorney explained the ambiguity of ownership in the joint account.
He wanted the chapter closed.
Vanessa disappeared from his daily life.
But not immediately from Lily’s.
One October afternoon, a package arrived.
No return address.
Inside was a children’s book, a handwritten letter, and a small white box.
Michael opened the letter first.
Dear Lily,
I have rewritten this many times because every version started with explanations.
You do not need my explanations.
I hurt you.
I said things that made you believe loving your mother was a problem. I tried to make you responsible for my feelings. I broke something that belonged to you because I was angry that I could not control what it meant.
None of that was your responsibility.
You did not ruin the wedding.
You did not ruin my relationship with your father.
My choices did that.
I am sorry.
You do not have to forgive me.
Vanessa.
Michael read it twice.
Then opened the white box.
Inside was a small silver chain.
No locket.
Just a chain.
A note explained that Vanessa knew the original had already been repaired. She had asked the same jeweler to make a stronger duplicate, then decided sending it might be inappropriate.
The jeweler had apparently convinced her otherwise.
Michael did not give the package to Lily immediately.
He brought it to Dr. Park.
The therapist read the letter.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s why you’re here.”
“She’s seven.”
“Yes.”
“Does she need this?”
“Maybe not today.”
“Should I throw it away?”
“That would make the decision for her permanently.”
Michael looked at the letter.
“What would you do?”
Dr. Park smiled.
“You pay me specifically so I won’t make your parenting decisions.”
“Terrible business model.”
“It’s working.”
Michael eventually told Lily a letter had arrived.
He did not tell her the contents.
“Do I have to read it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Can you keep it?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
The letter went into the top drawer of Michael’s desk.
Lily did not ask for it for eight months.
Then one Sunday afternoon she did.
Michael handed it to her.
She read slowly.
Twice.
Then folded it.
“Is she still sorry?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.”
“Can people stop being sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Can they stay sorry?”
“Yes.”
Lily thought about that.
“I forgive her a little.”