Chapter 12 - WHAT FIRE COULDN'T DESTROY
Three weeks passed.
I returned to work.
Margaret was formally charged in connection with the wedding incident.
The financial investigation expanded.
Charles faced charges too.
Richard resigned as CEO of Wilson Development Group while outside auditors reviewed decades of records.
Jason took a leave of absence.
I didn't speak to him.
Not once.
Jessica stayed with me the first week.
She didn't offer advice.
That's why I loved her.
Sometimes she brought food.
Sometimes she sat beside me while we watched terrible television.
Sometimes she let me cry.
One Saturday morning, someone knocked.
I expected a delivery.
Instead, Eliza stood outside.
The designer who had made my wedding gown.
She carried a large garment bag.
I stared at it.
“What is that?”
“Open the door.”
“Eliza.”
“Open the door.”
I let her in.
She hung the bag on the living room door.
Then unzipped it.
Inside was my dress.
Or what remained of it.
I touched the fabric.
“You saved it?”
“Parts.”
The entire lower section had been replaced.
Not hidden.
Reimagined.
Eliza had used pieces of the original ivory satin where she could.
Along the new skirt, she'd sewn a delicate pattern of darker champagne-colored embroidery.
It looked almost like flames.
But beautiful.
Controlled.
Intentional.
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because she doesn't get to decide what happens to something you loved.”
My eyes filled.
“Eliza.”
“Don't cry on it.”
I laughed.
She smiled.
“Much better.”
I ran my fingers over the embroidery.
“The damage is still visible.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged.
“I could've tried to make it look like nothing happened.”
“But something did happen.”
“So I made it part of the dress.”
That stayed with me.
Maybe healing wasn't pretending nothing burned.
Maybe it was deciding what the burned pieces became.
Later that afternoon, I received a package.
No return address.
Inside was Daniel's old photograph.
The one with Jason beside him at the lake.
There was also a letter.
From Richard.
It contained only three sentences.
I failed both of my sons by confusing silence with protection.
Jason is trying to become a man who doesn't repeat my mistakes.
Whether you ever forgive him is your choice.
For once, no one will make it for you.
I read those words three times.
Then my phone rang.
May you like
Jason.
For the first time in three weeks, I answered.
