I wanted to come back to you. I wanted to bring her to you myself. I kept saying, next month, when I feel stronger; next spring, when I have the money; after one more treatment. Time kept moving while I kept waiting for the right moment.
I am sorry I let it run out.
Lily has a small savings account and the papers she needs. Mrs. Alvarez has been helping, but she is elderly and cannot raise a child. I have asked Denise Harper to help with the legal process if you choose to take Lily in. You owe us nothing. I know that. If you cannot do this, please make sure Lily goes to someone who will love her.
But if you can, tell her about me. Tell her I loved her from the first moment I knew she existed. Tell her that the best thing I ever did was bring her into the world, even if I made mistakes after that.
And, Jack, please do not spend the rest of your life punishing yourself for the years we lost. I did enough of that for both of us.
Forever yours,
Emily.
Jack read the letter once. Then again. By the third time, the words had become a blur.
Marcus sat beside him, saying nothing.
“I could have helped her,” Jack said at last.
“You would have tried,” Marcus replied.
“I could have been there.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have known.”
Marcus turned toward him. “No. You should have been told. Those are different things.”
Jack looked through the window at the rain. He wanted to be angry. Anger would have been easier than grief. He could have blamed Emily for the years she had taken from him, blamed himself for the years he had lost, blamed the world for giving him a daughter only after it had taken her mother away.
But Emily’s letter was not a defense. It was a confession from someone who had run out of time. She had been frightened, stubborn, and painfully human. So had he.
He folded the letter and put it beside the bracelet.
“I don’t know how to forgive her,” he said.
Marcus shook his head. “You don’t have to decide tonight.”
Jack glanced at Lily, asleep beneath the bar’s warm lights.
“But I know what I’m going to do for her.”
“Then start there.”
By morning, the rain had stopped. Pale sunlight stretched across the parking lot, catching in the puddles and the chrome of the motorcycles. Lily woke to the smell of pancakes and the sound of Ruth arguing with Marcus about how much syrup a child should be allowed to have.
Jack sat beside her, freshly showered, his gray hair still damp. He had not slept more than an hour, but his decision had settled into him with the steadiness of a road beneath a tire.
“Morning, kiddo.”
Lily rubbed her eyes. “Did you stay?”
“I did.”
“Even when I was asleep?”
“Even then.”
She studied him, looking for a trick. Finding none, she leaned against his side.