Chapter 18 - Catherine’s Second Letter

Two months before wedding, Catherine wrote again.

I almost refused.

Then read.

Emma,

I am not asking to attend.

Good.

Then:

I have spent my entire sentence trying to decide whether I loved you.

I stopped.

What kind of mother asks that after twenty six years?

Then:

I did.

I also resented you.

Both were true.

That was more honest.

She described Rebecca.

Brilliant.

Beautiful.

Richard’s favorite sibling? Maybe Catherine felt Richard idolized sister.

Grandma’s favorite daughter.

When Rebecca died, Catherine became mother to her baby and everyone praised:

You are a saint.

At first that felt good.

Then whenever Emma succeeded:

Just like Rebecca.

Whenever Emma struggled:

Poor child lost her real mother.

Catherine felt invisible.

Then Chloe was born.

Finally a child no one compared to Rebecca.

Then Eleanor’s trust kept Emma financially distinct.

Catherine interpreted separation as:

You are temporary mother. Rebecca still owns her.

That wound grew.

Again not excuse.

Then:

I should have gone to therapy instead of turning a child into evidence that I was not enough.

There.

Then:

By the time Ethan appeared, I had spent years teaching Chloe that taking something from you would balance us.

I stared.

She knew.

Then:

The morning I placed the brick outside, part of me wanted Richard to refuse.

He did not.

Then:

I could have picked it back up.

I did not.

Accountability.

Then:

I am sorry.

No request forgiveness.

Then final:

I hope your wedding is beautiful. I hope you never let marriage make you smaller.

Interesting from her.

I cried.

Then I wrote back one sentence.

I received your letter.

Nothing more.

Not ready.

Then Richard wrote too.

I did not read.

I returned.

Different.

Forgiveness not equal.

Then criminal appeal.

Richard appealed.

Conviction affirmed.

Catherine did not appeal primary assault conspiracy, only sentencing financial issues later resolved.

Cases moving toward finality.

Then Chloe asked if I forgave Mom.

“Some.”

“What does that mean?”

“I believe she understands more.”

“Do you want to see her?”

“No.”

“Ever?”

“I don’t know.”

Good.

Then Ethan’s bachelor party? Not relevant.

My bachelorette small dinner.

Chloe came.

One friend eyed her.

Understandable.

I had told core story.

No one publicly shamed.

Chloe left early.

Later text:

I know I made people uncomfortable.

I replied:

You are allowed to exist in rooms without earning everyone instantly.

That was advice for both.

Then rehearsal.

When I walked garden path, I froze.

A brick border.

Of course.

Landscaping.

My heart pounded.

Venue manager offered remove.

I said no.

Not because prove strength.

Because I wanted to decide after feeling, not panic.

We rerouted slightly.

Still bricks visible.

Fine.

Then wedding morning.

Mirror.

Scar.

Faint silver line.

I applied makeup.

Then wiped some off.

I wanted face recognizable to me.

Chloe entered.

“You look…”

She stopped.

“What?”

“Like you.”

Best possible.

Then she walked me to garden entrance.

At edge, she squeezed hand.

“I love you.”

I believed.

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Then I walked alone.

Continue to the next part: Catherine finally admits love and resentment existed together, and Emma reaches her wedding day without needing either parent’s permission, presence, or forgiveness.