Chapter 5 - The Sister's Confession
On Wednesday afternoon, rain lashed against the windows of the apartment. June was sleeping upstairs, and Aunt Gwen had stepped out to run errands at the bank.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
I hesitated, checking the peephole before unlocking the deadbolts. Standing in the hallway, dripping wet under a dark umbrella, was Bethany.
She held a canvas tote bag in her hand, her eyes downcast, looking small and fragile in an oversized raincoat.
"Maren," she said softly. "Can I come in? I swear my mother doesn't know I'm here."
I stepped aside, opening the door wider. "Come in, Bethany."
Bethany took off her wet boots by the door, leaving them neatly on the mat, and followed me into the living room. She sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands tightly folded over the canvas bag in her lap.
"I came to say I'm sorry," Bethany began, her voice cracking instantly. "I am so, so sorry for what happened at my mother's house. I didn't know about the plaque, Maren. I swear on my daughter's memory, I had no idea what she was planning."
"I know you didn't," I said softly, sitting in the armchair across from her. "I heard you in the living room, Bethany. I know you stood up to her."
Bethany let out a dry, ragged sob, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "My mother has been doing this for three years. Ever since Lucy died, she’s treated my grief like her personal theater project. She posts photos of Lucy on social media every week, she hosts memorial lunches I don't want to go to, and she acts like she's the guardian of Lucy's memory."
She took a deep breath, reaching into her tote bag and pulling out a small, beautifully bound leather album.
"When I heard you were having a girl," Bethany continued, "I was terrified. I was afraid I would look at your baby and feel bitter. But when I saw June’s photo on your phone last month... I just saw a beautiful baby girl. I wanted to be her aunt, Maren. I wanted to give her this."
She held out the album.
I opened it gently. Inside were photos of Lucy—smiling, pushing her little toy shopping cart, playing in the grass—and on the very last page, a handwritten letter addressed to June.
Dear June, the letter read in Bethany’s slanted handwriting. You are named June because your mother loved that name. You carry your own light into this world. I promise to always see you for who you are, and to love you as your Aunt Bethany.
Tears welled in my eyes as I closed the album, holding it against my chest. "Thank you, Bethany. This means more to me than you know."
"My mother is crazy, Maren," Bethany said, her voice turning cold and serious. "She’s talking to Wade right now at her house. She's telling him that if you don't bring June over for a formal apology dinner this Sunday, she's going to hire a family lawyer to seek grandparent visitation rights."
I sat up straight, a surge of adrenaline burning away my fatigue. "She's doing what?"
"She thinks she can intimidate you," Bethany said. "She thinks because Wade is under her thumb, you’ll fold. But you need to know something—my mother took out a twenty-thousand-dollar line of credit in Wade's name two years ago. He signed it for her behind your back."
May you like
The room seemed to tilt. "What?"
"Wade didn't just lend her your savings, Maren," Bethany said quietly. "He’s been paying the monthly interest on a debt she ran up buying antique furniture for her house. He's bound to her financially, and he’s too terrified to tell you."
