I walked toward the empty chair in the front row and picked up Mom’s blue scarf.
Then I returned to Paige.
She stiffened, probably expecting me to throw it at her or tell her she did not deserve to touch it.
Instead, I placed it around her shoulders.
The blue against the white changed everything.
She was no longer a woman pretending to be a bride.
She was a daughter wearing her mother’s mercy.
“Stand with me,” I said.
Paige stared at me.
“What?”
“Stand with me.”
She shook her head quickly. “No. Clara, I can’t. People will—”
“Let them.”
My voice was stronger than I felt.
“Let them see what forgiveness looks like when it doesn’t pretend nothing happened.”
Ethan smiled then.
A small, proud smile that I will remember longer than the flowers, longer than the cake, longer than the music.
Paige looked around the room once, like she was searching for permission.
