Chapter 19 - Diane’s Letters
Diane wrote every six months.
At first I returned.
Then stopped opening.
Years later Sophie asked:
“Does Grandma Diane write?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
She was eleven.
Therapist involved.
One letter addressed to both twins.
Sophie read.
My sweet girls—
Sophie stopped.
“I’m not sweet girl.”
“Continue if want.”
She did.
Diane wrote:
I made terrible choices because Madison was sick.
Sophie frowned.
“That’s excuse.”
Yes.
Then:
I loved you from the moment you were born.
Sophie:
“Did she?”
I said:
“She says she did.”
Then:
I believed keeping Sophie hidden was the only way to keep everyone alive.
Lily:
“Not everyone. Mom thought Sophie dead.”
Sharp.
Then Diane:
I hope one day you understand a grandmother will do anything for her grandchildren.
Sophie folded letter.
“No.”
She handed back.
“What?”
“I don’t want more.”
Good.
No forced forgiveness.
I wrote Diane through attorney:
Do not send further letters to children unless they request.
She complied.
Years.
That compliance became only evidence of change I trusted.
Then Diane’s parole eligibility after substantial sentence.
At around age seventy? She entered 60, twelve-year term, could serve say 9 before release. At age69, considered.
Victim statements.
I wrote:
“I do not request punishment beyond law. I request continued no-contact unless initiated by Sophie or Lily.”
Sophie, thirteen, wrote:
“I don’t want to see her.”
Lily:
“Me neither.”
Board considered.
Diane released later under supervision after serving about nine and a half years, with strict no-contact conditions.
She moved to another county near assisted housing.
No violations.
Then she asked once through victim services:
“May I send Rachel an apology?”
I said yes.
Not children.
Letter:
Rachel,
I used to think Nicole needed more because she was weaker.
Then:
I punished you for being capable.
There.
Then:
When Madison got sick, I decided your strength meant you could survive losing Sophie.
I called that fairness.
Then:
It was cruelty.
Then:
I do not expect to be your mother again.
Good.
Then:
I have spent years trying to understand why I thought my fear was more important than your consent.
No answer.
Then:
I am sorry.
I did not reply for three months.
Then:
I received it.
Nothing more.
Diane did not ask.
That mattered.
Then Nicole remained incarcerated longer.
She wrote Madison, not twins, under Scott-controlled arrangements.
Madison visited as teenager.
Her choice.
Sophie did not.
Lily no.
Then Nicole appealed no more.
She completed programs.
No disciplinary issues.
Would be release in late forties/early fifties.
Future.
Then my marriage.
Evan and I fought normally.
Money.
Work.
Parenting.
Once he raised voice.
Sophie froze.
He noticed.
Apologized.
Not to me only.
To her.
“I should not yell like that.”
Then we continued disagreement calmly.
Children learned conflict does not end family.
That was new.
Then career.
I worked in marketing? User not specify. Could say I was project coordinator for a regional architecture firm. But we haven't established. No need.
Maybe Rachel owned something? Not relevant. Keep job as insurance claims analyst? Hmm. We can say I returned to my role as event planning manager? Not necessary.
Then family home.
We moved after wedding because my old apartment had one extra room, now twins needed space.
Bought modest four-bedroom house using our incomes and settlement trusts kept separate for children.
No using children's money for house.
Important.
Then one night, Sophie asked:
“Would you have said yes?”
To donor.
Again.
“I don't know.”
“Why not know?”
“Because good parents ask doctors, think about risks, and listen to child.”
“But Madison could die.”
“Yes.”
Sophie:
“I think I would say yes.”
Maybe.
I said:
“You are allowed to feel that. What was wrong is they never let you have a future choice.”
Then Lily:
“I would say no.”
Sophie laughed.
“You’re mean.”
Lily:
“It’s my marrow.”
Exactly.
Two answers.
May you like
Both valid.
That was the family Diane could never imagine.
