Later, after dinner, baths, and bedtime stories, Julianne sat alone in Mira’s living room. Rain tapped softly against the window. Duchess slept on the arm of the sofa like a queen granting temporary shelter to peasants.
Julianne opened Warren’s letter.
Dear Julianne,
I have written and rewritten this message because everything I try to say feels insufficient.
I am sorry.
I am sorry for what Marcus did, but more than that, I am sorry for what I did not do. I saw more than I admitted. I heard more than I challenged. I let comfort, pride, and family image matter more than your dignity.
You were a good wife to my son. You were a good daughter-in-law to us. You are an extraordinary mother to Theo and Lily.
I understand that my apology does not repair the years in which I stayed silent. I do not expect forgiveness. I only wanted the truth written plainly somewhere: you deserved better from all of us.
If there is ever a way Elaine and I can support the children without disturbing your peace, we will do it on your terms.
Warren
Julianne read the letter twice.
Then she placed the phone facedown on her lap and let herself feel nothing for a while.
Mira came in carrying two mugs of tea.
“Bad?” she asked.
“No,” Julianne said slowly. “That almost makes it harder.”
Mira handed her a mug. “Kindness from someone who failed you can be confusing.”
Julianne gave a small laugh. “You should write greeting cards for complicated families.”
“I’d make a fortune.”
They sat together in the quiet.
After a while, Julianne said, “I don’t know whether I want the children to know them.”
“You don’t have to decide tonight.”
“I know.”
“And when you do decide, it can change.”
