Chapter 19
Linda died in prison eight years after the bucket.
The call came from Nora.
I stood in the cafe kitchen, flour on my hands.
For a moment, I felt nothing.
Then I felt tired.
Then free in a quiet way.
Ryan sent a message through his attorney asking permission to send condolences.
I said no.
Not cruelly.
Clearly.
Claire came by that evening.
She had built a life separate from Ryan and Linda.
She volunteered twice a week now.
She cried when I told her.
“She was still my mother,” she said.
“I know.”
“And she was dangerous.”
“I know that too.”
Both truths sat with us.
Neither canceled the other.
We closed the cafe early and went to Dad’s grave.
Megan brought flowers.
I brought coffee.
“Dad liked coffee,” I said.
“Dad liked bad coffee,” Megan corrected.
True.
I stood by his stone.
“Linda is gone.”
Wind moved through the trees.
“I’m okay.”
For once, the words did not feel like a performance.
I was okay.
Not untouched.
Not unscarred.
Okay.
I placed my hand on the stone.
“You were right,” I whispered. “I should have trusted myself.”
May you like
Then I smiled.
“I do now.”
