Page 67 of Love Notes & Lifelines
I love you, little brother. I always have, and I always will.
Cally
What are you talking about, Cally? I turn the page over, hoping for a sign, a clue, something to tell me what she’s talking about.
Her penmanship is shaky. Is it possible she wasn’t thinking clearly when she wrote this? The date on the envelope tells me she wrote it two months before she passed. But I have no idea what to do with any of the information.
Where the stars shine bright?
I open my palm and the letter floats to the table, then I drop my head into my hands.
Cally couldn’t possibly believe I’d be afraid of Danica, would she? Haven’t I proved that over the years? What I’ve done to their company so far is only the beginning. But if what my sister is saying is true? What I’ve done will be a grain of sand at the beach compared to what I will do.
Emmy’s bottle of nail polish sits on the other end of the table. Cally died fearing for everyone she loved. I can’t do anything about what I didn’t know, but I can do something for these innocent little girls.
This house and all its secrets are trying to crush me, and I’m finding it difficult to sit still. But if I missed out on my sister’s short life because the Delacroix family was trying to hurt us, I’ll burn their world to the ground and stomp on the ashes.
Rage is a powerful motivator, but so is fear, and maybe even love. It hits me how powerful it can all be when the front door opens and Stella walks into the darkened room.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
STELLA
The bandageon my forehead pulls at my skin, and I scratch lightly around the adhesive. They keep my mother’s nails short now, but today they weren’t short enough.
“Every time I visit, she becomes more violent. Is it me? Is it my fault?”
Lucía, my mother’s favorite nurse, sits down beside me. “You know it’s not. Your mother has always loved you, but she lashes out now because she’s scared. Nothing’s familiar, so everything’s terrifying. It’s a cruel way to die. God gives you this amazing life, then takes everything from you one memory at a time.”
“Sometimes I don’t even know if I should keep coming.” Something inside me dies with that admission.
“She still has some good moments, but they’re few and far between.” She slips me a folder I’ve dreaded since we got here.
Hospice.
It never occurred to me that I’d lose my mother before I hit thirty. She was older than I am now when she had me, but she’s never once felt old. She was vibrant and full of life. She found the fun in everything we did, even if sometimes the fun overrode a bill or two.
New tears burn tracks down my face.
“I know it’s hard, honey.”
“H—How long do I have?” I ask through thick blobs of emotion clinging to my mouth.
“I’m not sure. You’d have to ask the doctor,” Lucía hedges.
“I’m asking you,” I plead. “What’s your guess?”
She sighs beside me, takes my hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. “A few months. Six, maybe.”
Even knowing it was coming doesn’t make it hurt any less.
“I should be here,” I cry. Lucía knows why I’m not, and she even encouraged me to take the job with Beck, but I still worry my mother will feel abandoned on the off chance she remembers me and I’m not here.
“Stella,” she says gently. “No one questions how much you want to be here, and you shouldn’t either. I encourage you to come as often as you can, but the reality is, you’re young, and you have to do what will be best for your future. If that’s taking this new job that makes it harder to be here daily, but gives you some stability, then that’s what you do. Don’t carry guilt for doing what’s in your best interest. What would your mom say?”
Lucía was around for enough good times with my mom to know exactly what she’d say.
“She’d ask me if my boss was hot and single, and if I said yes, she’d kick me out the door and tell me to bring back some grandbabies.”
