Chapter 19
Life went on.
As it always does.
Sophie turned fourteen.
A full-blown teenager.
With all the attitude and eye-rolling that comes with it.
But she was still my girl.
Still kind.
Still brave.
Still my biggest heart.
She started high school that fall.
Freshman year.
She tried out for the varsity volleyball team and made it.
The only freshman on the team.
I was beyond proud.
Tom and I never missed a game.
Daniel never missed a game either.
We’d sit on opposite sides of the gym at first.
Then slowly, we started sitting together.
Just to cheer for Sophie.
No awkwardness.
No hard feelings.
Just two parents who loved their daughter more than anything.
By Christmas, we were all spending holidays together.
Daniel and his new girlfriend—Lisa, a nice elementary school teacher he’d been seeing for a year.
Linda and her family.
Marnie.
Jessica and her new girlfriend, Maya.
Tom and me and Sophie.
It was a big, messy, beautiful blended family.
Nothing like the family I’d grown up in.
Nothing like the family I’d married into.
Better.
Because everyone in this family was there by choice.
Because we loved each other.
Because we’d all been through enough pain to know how precious love really is.
That Christmas, Sophie got her acceptance into a special summer science program for kids who wanted to be doctors.
It was at Stanford.
Two weeks in California.
All expenses paid.
She was only fourteen, but she’d earned it.
“I’m going to miss you,” she said when she found out.
“We’re going to miss you too,” Tom said. “But this is an amazing opportunity. You’re going to love it.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“Of course you are,” I said. “But you know what? Courage isn’t about not being scared. It’s about being scared and going anyway. Just like I did when I left Dallas. Just like you did when you started your new school. You’ve got this, baby. You’ve got so much of this.”
She left in June.
I cried at the airport.
Tom had to practically drag me away.
“I’m going to check on her every five minutes,” I said.
“Her flight hasn’t even taken off yet,” he laughed.
But he was just as bad.
He called the program director twice the first day.
Just to make sure she was okay.
She called us every night.
Excited.
Happy.
Making friends.
Learning so much.
By the end of the two weeks, she’d decided she was going to go to Stanford for college.
And medical school.
And become a pediatric allergist.
“Just like Tom,” she said. “But better.”
We laughed.
“Deal,” Tom said.
That fall, I got a call from the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.
“Mrs. Miller?” the woman said. “I’m calling about Evelyn Carter. She passed away last night. Heart attack in her sleep. In the halfway house in Miami.”
I froze.
Evelyn was dead.
Really dead.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked.
“I… I don’t know,” I said.
I hung up.
I sat down.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t feel happy.
I didn’t feel sad.
I just felt… empty.
Like a chapter had finally closed.
A long, terrible, painful chapter.
And now it was over.
Forever.
Tom found me sitting on the kitchen floor.
He sat down next to me.
He didn’t say anything.
He just held me.
After a long time, I spoke.
“She’s dead,” I said.
“I know,” he said. “Linda called me. She just found out too.”
“I don’t know how to feel,” I said. “I hated her for so long. I was so afraid of her. And now she’s just… gone. And I don’t feel anything. Is that wrong?”
“No,” he said. “It’s not wrong. She took so much from you. So many years of fear and pain. You don’t owe her tears. Or happiness. Or anything. You can feel whatever you feel. It’s all okay.”
I called Sophie.
She was quiet when I told her.
“Grandma Evelyn is dead?” she said.
“Yes, baby.”
She was silent for a minute.
“I’m not sad,” she said. “Is that bad?”
“No,” I said. “It’s not bad at all. She hurt you. She hurt our family. You don’t have to be sad. You can feel however you want.”
“Okay,” she said. “Can we get ice cream after school? To celebrate? Not that she’s dead… but that we survived her. That we’re okay.”
I smiled through my tears.
“Absolutely,” I said. “The biggest sundae they have. Just like old times.”
That night, we all went out for ice cream.
Sophie got the biggest sundae on the menu.
With seven scoops.
One for every year we’d spent fighting.
We laughed.
We talked.
We didn’t talk about Evelyn.
We talked about Sophie’s science program.
About volleyball.
About the future.
And when we got home, I went into the backyard.
I looked up at the stars.
“Goodbye, Evelyn,” I whispered. “I hope you find peace wherever you are. Because I finally have.”
And for the first time in my life, I meant it.
No anger.
No hate.
May you like
No fear.
Just… goodbye.
