Reminders of Him

I nod. “Yeah. Come in.”

He shakes his head. “Not for me.” His attention moves away from me, and he points inside my apartment, but then he steps away from the door.

Grace walks into my line of sight.

I immediately slap my hand over my mouth, because I wasn’t expecting her and I haven’t been face to face with her since before Scotty died and I had no idea it would knock the breath out of me.

I don’t know what it means. I refuse to let myself think this means anything at all, but there’s too much hope inside me to keep buried in her presence.

I back into my apartment, but tears are spilling from my eyes. There’s so much I want to say to her. So many apologies. So many promises.

Grace steps inside my apartment, and Ledger stays outside but closes the door to give us privacy. I grab a paper towel and wipe at my eyes. It’s pointless. I don’t think I’ve cried like this since I gave birth to Diem and watched them take her away from me.

“I’m not here to upset you,” Grace says. Her voice is gentle. So is her expression.

I shake my head. “It’s not . . . I’m sorry. I need a minute before I can . . . talk.”

Grace motions toward the sofa. “Can we sit?”

I nod, and we both take a seat on the couch. Grace watches me for a moment, probably judging my tears, wondering if they’re real or forced.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls something out. At first I think it’s a handkerchief, but upon closer inspection, I realize it’s a small black velvet bag. Grace hands me the bag, and I have no idea why.

I pull the strings to loosen the opening to the velvet bag, and then I dump the contents into my palm.

I gasp. “What? How?” I’m holding the ring I fell in love with all those years ago when Scotty took me to the antique store. The four-thousand-dollar gold ring with the pink stone that he couldn’t afford. I’ve never told anyone that story, so I’m extremely confused as to how Grace is in possession of this ring. “How do you even have this?”

“Scotty called me the day you two saw the ring. He said he wasn’t ready to propose to you, but that he already knew what ring he was going to propose with when the time came. He couldn’t afford it, but he was afraid someone else was going to buy it before he got the chance. We let him borrow the money. He gave me the ring and made me promise to keep it in a safe place until he could pay us back.”

My hands are shaking as I put the ring on my finger. I can’t believe Scotty did that.

Grace releases a quick rush of air. “I’ll be honest, Kenna. I didn’t want that ring after he died. And I didn’t want you to have it because I was so mad at you. But when we found out Diem was a girl, I decided to hold on to it. Just in case I wanted to pass it on to her someday. But after giving it some thought . . . that’s really not my decision to make. I want you to have it. Scotty bought it for you.”

There’s too much coursing through me to process this, so it takes me a moment to recover. I shake my head. I’m too scared to believe her. I don’t even allow the words to sink in. “Thank you.”

Grace reaches over and squeezes my hand, prompting me to look at her. “I promised Ledger I wouldn’t tell you this, but . . . he gave us one of the letters you wrote to Scotty.”

I’m shaking my head even though she isn’t finished talking. How did Ledger get one of those letters? Which one did he give them?

“He made me read it last night.” Her expression falls. “After hearing your version of events, I was even more devastated and angry than I was before I read it. It was so hard . . . hearing all the details. I cried all night. But this morning when I woke up, it was as if an overwhelming sensation of peace had washed over me. Today was the first morning I didn’t wake up angry at you.” She wipes at the tears now sliding down her face. “All these years, I assumed your silence in the courtroom was indifference. I assumed you left him in that car because you only cared for yourself and didn’t want to get in legal trouble. Maybe I assumed all those things because it was easier to have someone to blame for such a horrific and pointless loss. And I know your grief shouldn’t bring me peace, Kenna. But it’s so much easier to understand you now than when I assumed you never grieved at all.” Grace reaches toward a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from my ponytail, and she brushes it gently behind my ear. It’s something a mother would do, and I don’t understand it. I don’t know how she can go from hating me to forgiving me in such a short amount of time, so I continue to be wary of this moment. But the tears in her eyes feel like the truth. “I am so sorry, Kenna.” She says that with such sincerity. “I’m responsible for keeping you from your daughter for five years, and there’s no excuse for that. The only thing I can do is make sure you don’t go another day without knowing her.”