My Daughter Never Came Home from Prom – Eleven Months Later, What I Accidentally Found Hidden Inside My Son’s Beanbag Chair Made Me Go White as a Ghost
“May I meet her?”
“Her name is Rose,” she said, placing her in my arms.
I looked down at my granddaughter’s soft cheek. “Hi, Rose. I’m Camila, your grandma.”
Livia’s mouth trembled at that.
***
A week later, I called her.
“Would dinner here feel okay?” I asked. “You can say no.”
“I’m Camila, your grandma.”
“Who’s coming?” she asked.
“Whoever you want.”
She came with Mitchell, Rose, and Natalie. Liam sat beside her. I asked Natalie if she wanted coffee. John cooked because I knew I’d try to control every plate.
When Rose fussed, I stopped myself.
“Livia, do you want me to take her, or would you rather Mitchell?”
“Whoever you want.”
She looked at me, then smiled a little.
“You can take her, Mom.”
Before she left, she hugged me.
It was careful.
But it was real.
