Page 70 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Mariah loved Veronica’s kitchen. It sat in a corner of the apartment, facing the garden, and it was filled with light.

The counters and cabinets were all freshly rendered versions of the originals, with dark-green cupboards and white pulls, and a cute, rounded fridge.

Maybe she’d like to live in a place like this eventually.

She was beginning to see who she might be after ... everything.

No. Be specific. Who she’d be after the shooting and losing her mother, and her career. The program had taught her that there was power in claiming things, in naming them, even if it made others uncomfortable. She had been through a brutally violent trauma, and being able to claim that helped.

She’d also learned that she wasn’t alone, not by any means. Her group was small, but there were members who’d suffered a number of different kinds of violence, crime to war to car accidents. All of them had things to overcome.

Henry and Mariah came into the kitchen with one of his new works of art. “Happy birthday,” he said, and propped it up against the wall.

Mariah pressed her hands to her mouth. It showed Mariah and Rachel, a large portrait of the two of them when Mariah was about ten, sitting next to her mother on a train, her head on her shoulder.

Rachel was smiling softly. The photo was shaped out of hundreds of other photos, different sizes, all of the two of them, or each of them separately, commemorating the years they’d spent together.

“Henry,” she said through her tears, “this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. ”

He hugged her. “I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”

“I love you. You’re my only dad, you know.”

He kissed her cheek. “And you’re my only daughter.”

Mariah acknowledged a swirl of emotions then, loss and joy, regret and hope, and most of all gratitude for the people who’d stood so solidly in her corner at her darkest moment. Family came in all kinds of guises.

She propped the artwork against the wall in the living room, and people started coming in.

Jill and her husband, Jack, arrived, and he was looking quite recovered.

Veronica’s children arrived together, and she didn’t know what she’d been expecting, maybe mini versions of Veronica, but they were all tall, sculpted country-club kids, blond and athletic.

“You guys got a great mom,” she said when she met them.

“We agree,” Jenna said, and in the glance she shot at her mother, Mariah saw that she missed her. A good sign.

Another guest was a slim dark woman bearing a plate full of cupcakes. Three children trailed behind her, spit shined for the day. “Amber!” Veronica cried and wrapped her in a tight, rocking hug. “I’m so glad you came! Come in, come in!”

Mariah stepped forward. “You’re the famous Amber! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Ditto,” Amber said with a grin. “You’ve done her a world of good.”

“It goes both ways,” Mariah said.

The party spilled out to the little garden, where they ate cucumber sandwiches and strawberry shortcake. The children tossed a ball with Jenna, and played with a cat who slinked over the fence.

When Mariah blew out the candles, Henry said, “Speech! Speech.”

She rolled her eyes, but she stood up anyway.

“I’m glad to see the end of twenty-five.

Twenty-four was worse, but I don’t remember a lot about that transition.

I’m starting to feel like a real human again.

I’ve been offered a job with Diane Foundation, as a spokesperson to help change gun laws, and I’m happy to tell you that I’ve taken it.

” Everyone clapped, and she continued. “I am so grateful to the people here. Jill, you’ve been my rock and I love you.

Henry, you’re my one and only. And, Veronica—” To her amazement, she felt choked up enough that she had to pause.

“You fell into my life like a fairy godmother, and I love you so much. Thank you.”

Veronica’s tears flowed, too. “Ditto,” she said, and hugged her.

Mariah looked over her shoulder and there, in the garden, was Rachel. She wore an old housedress she’d loved, and her hair was loose on her shoulders. She looked happy as she kissed her fingers and waved the kisses toward her.

Then she was gone, and Mariah knew that she was well and truly gone.

But Mariah was here now, and that was everything.