The Letter in Purple Crayon
Chapter 19 - The Letter in Purple Crayon
Lucy had written the letter in purple crayon, with a drawing of a silver bird near the bottom.
“Dear Miss Emma,” it began, “Thank you for hearing me behind the door. I was scared nobody knew I was real. Now I have my mom and my dad and my school and my room with yellow walls. I am not scared to knock anymore.”
I read it three times. Then I placed it beside my teaching certificate.
Her life had not become perfect. She still had nightmares sometimes. She needed reassurance when adults traveled. But now, when she was worried, she could ask questions aloud. She knew who would answer.
In September, Rose invited me to dinner. Adrian was there with Lucy, along with Daniel and several friends. There were no armed guards standing behind the chairs, no rules about who could speak first, and no doors anyone was forbidden to open. The table was crowded with ordinary food and mismatched plates.
At one point Lucy knocked over a glass of juice. Everyone reached for a towel. She laughed and said, “Oops.” No one shouted. I looked at Adrian, who caught my eye and smiled.
After dessert, Rose walked me out. “He's asked me whether it would complicate things if he cared about you,” she said.
I stopped. “What did you tell him?”
“That Lucy needs adults who tell the truth. So do you. If a relationship happens, let it be because it's good for both of you, not because it makes a pretty ending to an awful story.”
I hugged her. I had come to love her in a way that couldn't be explained by our strange connection to the Bellandi family.
A few weeks later Adrian and I went to dinner, just the two of us. We chose a modest Italian place where nobody knew his name. He asked about my students, my brother, and the books I was reading. We spoke about the past without pretending it didn't exist.
May you like
When he asked whether we could see each other again, I said yes.
**But the choice that mattered most was still ahead: deciding what kind of family we could build without repeating the mistakes that had nearly destroyed the first one.**
