In the car, Audrey twisted the letter in her hands. “Are you mad at me for what I said?”
I glanced over, catching her worried eyes in the mirror. “No, honey. Not even a little. You said what needed to be said. I’ve never been prouder.”
Advertisement
She looked so much like Daniel then that it caught me in the chest, the same stubborn chin, the same quiet fire when something mattered.
She let out a shaky breath, the tension leaving her shoulders. “I thought I might cry. I almost didn’t say anything at all.”
I squeezed her knee. “Sometimes doing the right thing is scary. But you were so brave.”
“Are you mad at me for what I said?”
She smiled, finally relaxing. “Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow?”
Advertisement
“Only if you promise not to make me do the dishes,” I teased.
She giggled, already herself again.
***
At home, she dumped her backpack and headed for the shower, humming. I wandered into the kitchen, poured water, and stared at the letter. I ran my fingers over the signature, the embossed school crest.
I’d earned this, too.
***
“Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow?”
Later, folding laundry, Audrey padded in, comfy in her pajamas and wet hair.
“Mom, do you think Dad saw today?”
I smiled at her. “I think he was right next to you as you spoke, honey. And I think he’d be so proud of you. I know I am.”
Advertisement
She hugged me hard. I held on, fierce and proud.
That night, as I sat at the table, rubbing lotion into my palms, I realized it wasn’t the scholarship letter that made me enough. It was Audrey’s voice, and my own, finally heard.
I held on, fierce and proud.
