Epilogue
One year later
“We’re going to need a ladder to put the angel on top,” I said to Scott as I reached into the box for the last few ornaments.
The living room was a disaster with boxes of decorations spread out everywhere and wrapped gifts piled on the dining room table, waiting to be displayed under the tree.
“A chair should do it,” he said, moving to the dining room to get one.
Bev was feeding Louise in the high chair in the kitchen, while Leo gobbled up Cheerios as they fell from the tray onto the floor.
Our five-month old daughter, Serena, giggled and cooed as my mother carried her around the breakfast bar, bouncing at the knees.
Scott brought a dining room chair to the tree, and I passed him the angel to set on top. It wobbled for a few seconds until he found the right balance, then he plugged it into the string of white lights.
Getting down off the chair, he reached for my hand so we could stand back and admire our tree together.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my cheek on his chest.
Serena let out a happy shriek and we both turned to look her. My mother smiled at us. “It sounds like she likes it, too.”
I left Scott to tidy up the boxes while I moved to take Serena from my mother’s arms and carry her on my hip to examine the sparkly tree ornaments among the evergreen boughs. I was just fingering a gold trumpet on a string when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Scott set down the empty boxes and moved to answer it.
“Good evening,” he said to the uniformed courier who stood outside on our front step in the cold. “You’re working late.”
“There’s always plenty of overtime when it gets this close to Christmas,” he explained as he handed a package the size of a shoebox to Scott and asked him to sign for it.
A moment later, Scott closed the door and brought the box over to me. He stared down at the return address, hesitated briefly, then said, “It’s for you.”
Slightly unnerved by the look in his eye, I swapped Serena for the package. While he carried our daughter to the kitchen to join Bev, Louise, and my mother, I checked to see who it was from.
“It’s from Angie,” I said with a sudden spark of unease as I moved to the coffee table and sat down. My reaction wasn’t rational of course. I had moved on a long time ago and had let go of any lingering animosity, but I suppose she would always be my late-husband’s ex-lover and the friend who had betrayed me in the worst possible way. Seeing this package from her was an unexpected reminder.
The others were quiet while I ripped off the packing tape and opened the outer box. Inside, there was a card in a red envelope that said “Claire,” along with a smaller gift wrapped in festive paper and shiny gold ribbon, all on a bed of green tissue paper.
The others watched quietly while I opened the card and began to read the letter.
Dear Claire,
It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, and I’m not sure how you will feel when you receive this package from me, but I felt a great need to make contact with you this holiday season.
First of all, congratulations on the birth of your daughter. Barbara let me know that everything went well, and I am very happy for you and Scott. No one deserves happiness more than the two of you.
As for me… I do not feel worthy of all the gifts you have sent my way over the past year, much less your kindness and forgiveness.
For that reason, I feel a deep and unrelenting need to thank you, and to let you know that you have made a tremendous difference in my life. Something changed in me when Barbara arrived with the Christmas gift that came from you, not long before I went into labor last year. She told me what you had said in your letter to her, and I was deeply, deeply humbled. But still, I couldn’t bring myself to contact you, because I was too ashamed.
Then Wesley was born, and the love he brought with him when he came into the world exploded inside of me. I can’t explain it, but his birth, coupled with your forgiveness, was a true miracle in my life. I never felt more blessed, and I knew in that moment that I would never again intentionally inflict pain on another human being, nor would I betray a friendship, or act without honor or integrity. I want to be a good example for my son and be the best person I can possibly be. All I have to do is think of you, and I have a shining example to emulate.
Thank you, Claire—not just for the money, which has been extremely helpful to me as a single mother—but for your selflessness and forgiveness, your loving nature, and for showing me how to be a better person.
Which brings us to this moment, a year later, approaching Christmas. Please find enclosed a gift for you and Scott, and you can probably guess what’s inside.
Barbara and I decided together that you should have it, because it is a cup full of love, and no one deserves it more than you.
I feel certain that if Wes is looking down on all of us—which I believe he is—he would approve of my choice to pass this along to you. Please know that he was very sorry for the mistakes he made and the pain he caused you. His regret and shame weighed heavily on his heart.
So now, here we are. I will move forward with sadness over the loss of a man I loved and the friend I had not treated as she deserved to be treated. But I will endeavor to go on with joy for all the blessings I have received, and for the lessons I have learned. I will spend the rest of my days making myself worthy of those gifts.
Merry Christmas, Claire. May you always be surrounded by joy and love and Christmas miracles. You deserve that more than anyone.
Sincerely,
Angie
As I finished reading the letter, I wiped tears from my cheeks and found myself smiling.
I set it down on the coffee table and reached for the gift. Pulling the gold ribbon free, I opened the box and found the gleaming sterling silver baby cup and spoon that Barbara had given to me a few Christmases ago, when Wes and I were just beginning our journey together with the dream of creating a family.
So much had happened since then. There had been pain and heartbreak, but today there was nothing but an overflowing cup of joy and love.
I stood and turned to hold it up for Scott, Bev, and my mom to see. “It’s from Angie,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion. “She wrote me the most wonderful letter.”
Scott immediately came to my side, where we stood among the mess gazing into each other’s eyes, rejoicing and feeling grateful for all the little miracles that had brought us together.
And given us Serena.
My mother joined us as well. I handed her the letter to read.
She took a moment to get through it, then looked up at me with damp eyes.
“You did the right thing, Claire. Do you know how proud your father would be, if he were here with us today?”
I nodded as tears filled my eyes. “He is here, Mom.” I touched my fist to my heart. “He’s right in here, and he always will be.”
Scott kissed me softly on the cheek, while our baby daughter reached for the cup with her clumsy little baby hands. We all laughed and returned to the task of decorating our home for Christmas, while the angel at the top of the tree shone her light brightly and smiled down upon us all.