Behind us, Pastor Reynolds quietly picked up his Bible and closed it. He knew, like Mom had known, that sometimes the holiest thing in a church is not a sermon.
Sometimes it is two sisters finally telling the truth.
Paige looked at the letter again and forced herself to continue.
“If Clara gives you this letter, do not mistake her grace for weakness. She has carried more than you know. And if she lets you stand beside her after this, understand that she is not losing. She is choosing to stop the family curse with herself.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Family curse.
Mom had never used words like that when she was alive.
She called it “keeping the peace.”
She called it “letting things go.”
She called it “being the bigger person.”
But there, in ink, after death had made her brave, she called it what it was.
A curse.
