Chapter 13
Grace grows up fast.
Before I know it, she's walking, then talking, then running around the backyard chasing Lily, who's now ten years old and acts like a little mother to her baby sister.
Life is good. Busy, chaotic, sometimes exhausting—but good.
I love my job at the school. I love coming home to my husband and my two beautiful daughters. I love the quiet moments in the morning, when Ethan and I drink coffee together before the girls wake up. I love the loud, crazy dinners where everyone talks at once. I love the bedtime stories and the goodnight kisses and the way our house feels like a home.
But there's still one thing hanging over us.
Victoria.
She's been in prison for four years now. And according to her lawyer, she's been a model inmate. She's gotten her GED, she's taken counseling classes, she's even started a support group for other women who have experienced loss and trauma.
Eight years was the minimum for parole eligibility. But her lawyer says that given her good behavior, she might be eligible for early release in another two years.
The thought of Victoria being free again scares me.
But it also doesn't.
Because I'm not the same woman I was four years ago. I'm stronger now. More confident. I have a family who loves me, a career I'm proud of, a life that's full and rich and meaningful.
And I know that Victoria isn't the same woman either.
She writes to us sometimes—short, simple letters, telling us about her progress, asking about Lily, never asking for anything more than forgiveness. I write back occasionally, keeping her updated on Lily's life, telling her about Grace, about our family.
I don't know if I'll ever fully forgive her. But I've stopped hating her. I've stopped letting her live rent-free in my head.
She's a broken woman who made terrible choices. And she's paying for those choices. And that's enough.
Lily knows about the letters. She's old enough now to understand what happened, to understand why Victoria is in prison. She writes to Victoria sometimes too, telling her about school, about her friends, about Grace.
"She's my mom too," Lily told me once. "In a way. And she's sad. And lonely. I don't want her to feel alone."
My daughter's kindness and compassion never cease to amaze me.
When Lily is eleven, we get a letter from Victoria's lawyer.
She's being considered for parole. Two years early.
The hearing is in three months.
Ethan and I talk about it at length. We're both scared. The thought of Victoria being free again, of her being able to contact us, of her possibly trying to see Lily... it brings back all the old fears.
But we also know that Victoria has changed. That she's done the work. That she's taken responsibility for her actions.
And we know that Lily deserves to have a relationship with the woman who raised her, if that's what she wants.
"What do we do?" I ask Ethan one night, after the girls are asleep.
He takes my hand, his thumb rubbing circles on my skin.
"We do what's right," he says. "We go to the parole hearing. We tell them the truth. That Victoria did terrible things, but that she's also changed. That she's paid for her crimes. And that if she's truly rehabilitated, she deserves a second chance."
"And Lily?" I ask.
He looks at me, his eyes serious. "That's up to her. If she wants to see Victoria when she gets out, we'll support her. But we'll also make sure she's safe. We'll set boundaries. We'll take it slow."
I nod, even though my heart is racing.
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It's scary. It's terrifying.
But it's also the right thing to do.
