EPILOGUE
ELIZABETH NOELLE FORRESTER
14 years later
I stop and smile when I walk through the door. Camera flash coming from every direction blinds me for a second. I wait, posing for all the pictures I know are being taken.
Today was a big day. I graduated high school and this is the after-party my parents wanted to throw for me. All my friends and their parents are on the way. Daddy told them it started at 8:30 pm, but he wanted me to come straight home. I knew why.
For this.
When the spots clear from my vision, I glance around the room. I see my grandparents, all four of them, crying. I see Miss Anna, the woman who is like a fifth grandparent to me, and I see my father, never having looked so proud. As he nods and claps, I feel the warmth of his love and approval cross the room to kiss my cheek. He shows love in a manly, fatherly way, but it comes across loud and clear.
Then my eyes light on Abi, my second mother. Tears are streaming down her face, but I can’t remember her ever looking happier. Well, except the day she married Daddy. I’m pretty sure they could see that glow from outer space. Love and approval shine from her face now, too. Just like Daddy’s. Her love is a different kind, though. It’s soft and maternal, like the whisper of her voice at night when I used to have nightmares and she’d rock me until I fell back to sleep, her promises ringing in my ears. You’re safe, Noe. I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t ever let you go.
And she hasn’t.
From one of my earliest memories—Daddy taking me to her house, me running into her arms, me holding on for dear life, and her tears wetting my hair—she has loved me as well as any mother could. That’s what my birth mother wanted. That’s what Abi wanted, too.
I glance around at the easels scattered throughout the room. They mark milestones in my life—first day of school, first game I cheered at, first time I drove by myself, me in my cap and gown. But there are three easels that show days I don’t remember as clearly. Me kissing my mother’s cheek, me curled up at my mother’s side, and me in Abi’s arms as she cried at my mother’s grave. I don’t remember that, but Daddy told me about it. Since Abi missed the funeral, she wanted to go pay her respects to my mom. She wanted all of us to go, however, so my mother would know that she kept her promise and that we were all going to be okay.
She and Daddy go several times a year to put flowers on her grave, and they always include pictures of her when there’s a big special event in my life. It’s almost like having three parents.
Almost.
I think of the letter my mother left me, and all the ones Abi has written me over the years. She never let me forget my mom, and she never let me forget that, while I was born to another woman, she chose me. I don’t think a day has gone by that she hasn’t proven that. I didn’t always appreciate it, but now that I’m older, I understand it a little better. Yes, it was hard losing my mother. Yes, it left a scar in my heart, and in Daddy’s, but my mom knew what we’d need to ease that pain. She knew we needed Abi.
All in all, I’m grateful. I’ve had a wonderful life so far, and I know the best is yet to come. I wish I’d known my mother longer, wish I’d had more time with her, but she did the best thing she could for me: She introduced me to the only woman who could love me just as much. And hopefully I’ll have Abi around for a long, long time.
Dragging Daddy and me into her illness was something Abi worried about, but a year or so after my mom died, she had surgery and they implanted a spinal stimulator to help with the CRPS. It didn’t heal her condition, but it made a huge difference in it. Now, as long as she takes good care of herself, it will be enough to keep her healthy for a lot of years to come.
Daddy is the first to walk over to me. He takes me in his arms and squeezes me in a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you, little bee.”
“Daddyyyy,” I half complain, still smiling. I think he’ll call me that when I’m sixty.
When he lets me go, there is Abi, eyes shining, waiting her turn. She steps toward me, cups my face in her hands, and looks at me long and hard before she leans in to whisper, “I’ll never let you go.”
I laugh when she wraps me in her arms. “You might have to. I’m going to college in a couple months, you know.”
“Can you take us with you?”
“You two aren’t the uncoolest parents, but I think you might cramp my style a little.”
She draws away, her gaze wide and excited. “Did you just almost call us cool parents?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help laughing. “You’re such a nerd.”
“But you love me, nerd and all, right?”
“Yeah, I love you.”
I can tell my words, more than just teasing, please her. “You saved me, you know that, right? You and your dad.”
“I know. You saved us, too.”
“I love you, baby girl.”
“Love you, too, Abs.”
And she does. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t felt it, and that I haven’t, in my own way, thanked my mother and God for sending her to me. And for sending us to her.
We saved each other.
And my mother saved us all.
The End