She smiled.
“I know.”
“So?”
She reached for my hand.
“I want you.”
My heart stopped.
“Me?”
“You're surprised?”
“Yes.”
“Mom.”
There it was.
The word unchanged.
“I want you to walk me.”
I cried.
Then she added:
“And I want Rebecca to meet us halfway.”
My chest tightened.
I looked at her.
“Okay.”
“Are you sure?”
There it was.
A question.
Choice.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Then:
“And Grandma Catherine is standing near the front.”
I laughed.
“Your aisle is becoming a relay race.”
“Basically.”
The ceremony began.
I took Emily's arm.
As we stood behind the doors, she whispered:
“Do you ever think about Grace?”
Every day.
Not always painfully.
But every day.
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
Emily squeezed my hand.
“Me too.”
We had added Grace to our family history without turning her into a ghost that hovered over Emily.
Emily sometimes called her:
“My sister.”
No biological connection.
