Someone showed up.
Someone loved them through the parts Kayla had called too difficult.
And standing there in front of that photograph, I finally realized why my granddaughters hadn’t gone
to the country club to punish her.
They had gone because they were tired of being supporting characters in a story someone else had invented.
They wanted the truth to occupy its rightful place.
I touched the edge of the frame.
“Do you think she’ll ever understand?”
Jennifer thought for a moment.
“Maybe.”
Lizzie sat down beside me.
“And maybe she won’t.”
I looked at them.
“Would you ever speak to her again?”
Neither answered immediately.
Finally, Jennifer said, “Maybe someday.”
Lizzie nodded.
“If she comes because she actually wants to know us.”
“Not because she needs something?”
“Exactly.”
I smiled sadly.
“That seems fair.”
Jennifer rested her head against my shoulder.
“We don’t hate her, Grandma.”
