Chapter 8
Brenda was released.
After ten years. Good behavior. She was sixty. She'd lost everything. Her money. Her looks. Her family. She wrote to me. Asked to see the girls. Asked for money. Asked for forgiveness.
I didn't answer.
Emma didn't want to see her. Sophia didn't either. Jake — he saw her once. At a coffee shop. He came back sad.
"She's just — empty," he said. "No remorse. No understanding. She still thinks she did nothing wrong. She blames you. Blames me. Blames everyone. She's — she's not my mom anymore. She hasn't been for a long time."
I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jake."
He shook his head. "Don't be. I have you. I have Emma. Sophia. My wife. My baby. I have a family. She has nothing. That's her punishment. Not prison. This."
I nodded. He was right. Brenda's punishment wasn't the ten years in prison. It was the rest of her life. Alone. Without the children she'd had. Without the love she'd thrown away.
We never heard from her again. She moved away. Somewhere small. Somewhere no one knew her name. She became — nothing. A footnote in our story.
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And we — we lived. Fully. Loudly. Happily.
Grace grew up. She was the happiest child I'd ever known. She never knew hunger. Never knew fear. Never knew what it was like to be unwanted. She was — loved. Completely. And that was the greatest gift of all.
