Chapter 18 - RACHEL'S LETTER

Six months after I returned, Rachel wrote Lily a letter.

Her therapist and the court-appointed supervisor reviewed it first.

Then they gave it to me.

I had the option to wait.

I didn't.

Lily deserved the truth in pieces she could understand.

Rachel wrote that Daddy had never died.

She admitted that she had lied.

She admitted that Lily had done nothing wrong by crying.

Nothing wrong by asking for me.

Nothing wrong by refusing to call Brad "Daddy."

The most important line was near the end.

You were never punished because you were bad.

I was the adult, and I made choices that hurt you.

I read the letter aloud.

Lily listened without speaking.

When I finished, she asked whether she had to answer.

"No."

"Can I answer later?"

"Yes."

"What if later is really long?"

"Then it's really long."

She seemed satisfied.

A month later, she wrote three sentences.

I love you.

I am still mad.

I want Daddy at every visit.

Rachel accepted it.

So I attended.

I sat behind the observation window while Rachel and Lily colored pictures together.

Sometimes Lily spoke.

Sometimes she didn't.

Rachel never pressured her.

It wasn't forgiveness.

It wasn't reconciliation.

It was simply one adult finally learning that the child set the pace.

Brad eventually entered guilty pleas related to fraud, identity crimes, and offenses connected with the scheme.

Other matters remained pending.

I didn't attend every hearing.

I didn't need to watch him lose.

I needed to watch Lily recover.

That became the difference between Brad and me.

He had built his entire plan around revenge for something that happened eight years earlier.

He let hatred decide his future.

I refused to do the same.

One evening, Lily climbed onto the couch beside me.

A military commercial appeared on television.

She stiffened.

I reached for the remote.

She stopped me.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Did bad men really take you in the sand?"

"No."

"Did anybody kill you?"

"No."

"Were you coming home the whole time?"

"Every single day."

She leaned against me.

"I knew it."

I smiled.

"How?"

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She pointed toward Buster.

"He kept waiting by the door."