Jordan continued.
“That makes it sound like we made her do it.”
Aaron turned off the engine.
“You did not.”
“I know.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
Aaron nodded.
“Those can both be true.”
Jordan stared at him.
“You say that a lot now.”
“Therapy is expensive.”
“I’m getting value.”
Jordan almost smiled.
Weeks later, Celeste wrote Nia a letter.
Dr. Franklin read it first.
Then Aaron.
Only after that did Nia receive it.
Nia,
I am sorry.
I used to think an apology should explain why someone did something.
Dr. Franklin told me explanations can become a way of asking the hurt person to take care of the person who hurt them.
So I am trying not to do that.
I took money that belonged to you.
I used it for Jordan and Layla, for myself, and for things I wanted.
I told myself this was fair because you had more money saved for your future.
That was wrong.
Your trust exists because your mother died.
I treated it like an advantage you had over my children.
That was cruel even when I did not admit to myself that it was cruel.
I also treated you differently at home.
I gave you more chores.
I limited your food differently.
I took gifts from you.
I sold things that belonged to you.
I slapped your hand at the store.
None of those things were your fault.
You did not make me do them.
You did not deserve them.
You do not have to forgive me.
You do not have to answer this letter.
I hope someday I become someone who would have made different choices.
Celeste
Nia read it twice.
Then put it inside her desk drawer.
Aaron asked only:
“How did that feel?”
Nia shrugged.
Then:
“Better.”
He nodded.
“Do you want to answer?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
A month later:
“Maybe.”
“Okay.”
Three months later, Nia wrote:
I read your letter.
I don’t hate you.
I don’t want to see you yet.
Please give Jordan his blue hoodie back because he left it at your apartment and keeps complaining.
Nia.
Dr. Franklin laughed when she read it.
So did Celeste.
Jordan got his hoodie.
Life moved.
The bank investigation became a county prosecutor’s case.
Celeste’s attorney negotiated.
She had no prior criminal record.
She returned several purchased items.
Sold her own car and used equity to repay part of the trust.
Her sister returned the three-thousand-dollar wedding contribution once she learned its source.
The pawned camera had already been resold.
The bracelet had not.
Aaron recovered it.
He brought it home inside a small evidence envelope.
Nia sat at the kitchen table.
Aaron placed it in front of her.
She opened it.
Danielle’s bracelet.
Gold.
Seven charms.
One tiny heart engraved with N.
Nia touched it.
“Mom wore this?”
“Every day.”
“Can I wear it?”
Aaron’s first instinct was no.
Too valuable.
Too important.
Too easy to lose.
Then he heard Danielle laughing somewhere in his memory.
What are you saving it for?
He smiled.
“Yes.”
Nia looked surprised.
“Really?”