Chapter 19
The years kept rolling by.
Gentle.
Kind.
Full of love.
Lily graduated from high school.
Top of her class.
She got a full scholarship to play soccer at UCLA.
She was going to study pre-law.
She wanted to be a family law attorney.
To fight for kids.
To be the lawyer for families like ours.
Families who’d been torn apart.
Families who needed someone to stand up for them.
We were so proud.
So, so proud.
Her graduation party was the biggest party our small town had ever seen.
Hundreds of people came.
All our family and friends.
All the families James had helped.
All the families my foundation had helped.
All the kids we’d found.
All the people whose lives we’d touched.
There was food.
Music.
Dancing.
Lily gave a speech.
She talked about the gala.
About being six years old.
About being pushed to the floor.
About being scared.
About thinking her daddy didn’t love her.
About her mommy slapping Grandma Margaret.
About finding Grace.
About the trial.
About all the hard days.
And then she talked about the good days.
About Clara.
About Darlene.
About Sarah.
About Detective Rao.
About all the people who’d loved her and protected her.
“I am who I am today because of two things,” she said, looking at James and me. “The love of my parents. And the choice I made, even when I was six years old, to not let the bad things make me a bad person. Hate is easy. Love is hard. But love is always worth it. Always.”
The crowd cheered.
We cried.
That fall, we drove Lily to California.
We helped her move into her dorm.
We met her roommate.
We watched her run off to meet her new soccer team.
Confident.
Happy.
Ready to take on the world.
James cried all the way home.
“Our baby is gone,” he said.
“She’s not gone. She’s just growing up. She’ll be back for Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And summer. She’ll always be our baby.”
“I know. But it’s hard.”
“I know.”
Grace graduated from high school two years later.
Valedictorian.
Her speech made the whole town cry.
She talked about being six years old.
About living in the trailer.
About thinking her real parents didn’t want her.
About the day we showed up.
About Lily giving her the magic unicorn.
About coming home.
About learning to be loved.
About learning to love herself.
“Home isn’t a place,” she said. “It’s people. People who love you. People who fight for you. People who will never let you go. I found my home. I found my people. And I will spend the rest of my life helping other lost kids find theirs.”
She went to art school in New York.
She was going to be amazing.
We drove her to the city.
Helped her move into her tiny apartment.
Walked her around the campus.
Watched her meet her new friends.
Shy, but excited.
Ready to fly.
James cried all the way home again.
“Now we have an empty nest,” he said.
“Yep. Just you and me. And Sunshine. Who’s now fifteen and sleeps all day.”
“What are we going to do with all our time?”
I smiled at him.
“Whatever we want.”
And we did.
We traveled.
We went to all of Lily’s soccer games.
We went to all of Grace’s art shows.
We spent more time with our friends.
Darlene and her husband.
Sarah and her family.
Detective Rao and his wife.
We had dinner parties.
Book clubs.
Game nights.
We volunteered more than ever.
James built more homes.
My foundation found more kids.
We were busy.
Happy.
Still in love.
More in love every day, if that was possible.
Sunshine died a year after Grace left for school.
He was sixteen years old.
A good, long life for a golden retriever.
He died in his sleep.
On Lily’s old bed.
Surrounded by all of us.
We buried him under the oak tree.
Next to Clara.
Next to Daniel.
The girls came home for the funeral.
We all cried.
Even James.
He’d been Sunshine’s favorite.
But we were happy for him.
He’d had a good life.
A life full of love and treats and walks and belly rubs.
He’d been the best dog.
The best protector.
The best friend.
He was with Clara now.
And Daniel.
Watching over us.
Life went on.
As it always does.
Lily graduated from UCLA.
First in her class.
She got into Harvard Law.
She was going to be a lawyer.
An amazing lawyer.
Grace graduated from art school.
Her first children’s book, The Magic Unicorn, was published.
It was an instant bestseller.
It won every award there was.
Kids all over the world were reading it.
Kids who were lost.
Kids who were scared.
Kids who needed hope.
She was changing the world.
One book at a time.
We were so proud.
Our girls.
Our beautiful, amazing daughters.
Who’d been through so much.
Who’d turned their pain into purpose.
Their hurt into hope.
Their trauma into triumph.
They were our greatest legacy.
Our greatest gift.
And we knew.
With every fiber of our being.
That Daniel and Clara were smiling down on them.
May you like
Proud.
So very proud.
