Chapter 16 - THE HOUSE WE BUILTA year after Christmas, James and I moved into a new house.
It wasn't enormous.
It wasn't luxurious.
But every room felt like ours.
No hidden cameras.
No secrets.
No relatives walking through the front door without calling.
Emma had learned to walk.
She raced through the hallway laughing, her little feet slapping against the hardwood.
James watched her from the kitchen.
"She's fast."
"She gets that from you."
He laughed.
"No chance."
That evening, we hung the red stocking above the fireplace.
Emma pointed at it.
"Mine."
I smiled.
"Yes, baby. Yours."
For the first time, the stocking didn't remind me of Lauren.
It reminded me that something beautiful could survive something ugly.
Then Dad called.
"Your mother wants to know if she can see Emma."
I looked at James.
He didn't answer for me.
"Is she asking to come over?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
I thought about the coffee shop.
About the letter.
About the fact that Mom had stopped making excuses.
"Tell her she can come Sunday."
Dad went quiet.
"Are you sure?"
"No."
I smiled sadly.
"But I'm willing to try."
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Sometimes healing doesn't begin with forgiveness.
Sometimes it begins with a door opening one inch.
