Chapter 5
Three days later, there was a knock on the door.
My mother-in-law stood on the porch. Red-eyed, holding a plastic container of cookies.
My husband opened the door just enough to speak.
“Go home, Mom,” he said.
“I came to apologize,” she said, voice trembling. “I was wrong. I was cruel. But I love you. I want to fix this.”
“Then tell Lily you’re sorry,” he said. “And mean it. And promise you will never say those things again.”
She hesitated. Glanced past him, like she was hoping I wasn’t there.
“I just think—if we talked properly—”
“There is no talking properly until you apologize to her,” he said. “She is seven. She deserves respect.”
She shook her head. “She’s not my blood. I can’t pretend—”
“Then there is nothing to say,” he said, and closed the door gently but firmly.
We heard her crying on the porch for a long time. Then she walked away.
That night, my husband sat with Lily while she drew another picture. This one was of her and him building a treehouse.
“Grandma doesn’t like me,” she said suddenly.
“Grandma is confused,” he said. “She thinks blood is the only thing that makes family. But family is who loves you. Who stands by you. Who holds you when you cry. That is us. That is real.”
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Lily thought about it for a minute. Then she colored the treehouse bright blue.
“Okay,” she said. “I like our family better anyway.”
