Page 168 of Catch the Sun

In the midst of my tears, there’s a solemn realization that bitterness—like a stubborn thorn—cannot be the sole foundation for our relationship. As my mom continues to comfort me, I sense a shared vulnerability bloom between us. Mom made a choice; her staunch belief in Jonah’s innocence guided her judgment. Love always has a way of guiding the heart’s will.

I can’t fault her for love.

And I know that I’ll need to make a choice, too.

“I love you,” I whisper against her shoulder as she strokes my hair. “I don’t want to stay angry, or to hold on to useless grudges. I just want to move forward. I want to live. And it’s so hard to live when I feel trapped inside this bubble of tragedy and resentment.” Inhaling a ragged breath, I finish with, “I just…I want to heal, Mom.”

“Oh, sweetheart…I love you, too. So much.” She sniffles, squeezing me tighter. “Do what you need to do to find your healing, okay? Whatever it might be. I willalwaysbe here. No matter what.”

I nod, taking her words at face value.

Simmering in them. Spinning them over inside my head.

We stay like that for a few minutes, maybe ten, maybe twenty. It feels nice to be held, to still be loved after so much love has been sucked out of everything.

“I have something for you,” Mom says, removing her glasses to swipe away her own tears. Smudges of mascara mingle with dark circles as she returns the wire-rimmed glasses to her nose. “It’s from Grandma. She left you something in her will.”

“She did?”

“Of course. I know she was stern and set in her ways, but she loved you verymuch.” Mom stands and traipses across the small living room to snag her purse off a wall hook.

She hands me a manila envelope.

I lift up off the couch and pluck the envelope from her hands, grazing my fingertips over the starchy paper. A knot tightens in my throat.

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” she says softly. “Find me in the bedroom after you’ve read over everything.”

Nodding distractedly, I feel her hand squeeze my upper arm, and then I listen to her footfalls move away as she heads down the hallway.

I peel open the envelope and reach inside.

I read.

My eyes bulge. My lungs squeeze.

Air leaves me in a staggered whoosh as I lean back against the wall for support, the world blurring.

Grandma Shirley left me $250,000 in her will.

She also left a note.

Warm tears stream down my cheeks as I skim over the shaky ink, drinking in her final words to me.

Dearest Ella,

Use this money wisely.

More importantly, live wisely and with love.

With all my heart,

Grams

I place a palm over my chest, rereading the simple words dozens of times.

Then I glance out the window, my gaze settling and lingering on the RV on Chevy’s property across the street, before panning over to Max’s house.

My chest contracts. My pulse stutters.

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