Chapter 9 - The Ten Days Became Ten Years
Ten years after the doctors gave Jonah and Blythe ten days to live, they stood together on a stage outside the pediatric research center.
They were sixteen.
Healthy.
Loud.
Ridiculously competitive.
Jonah had grown tall.
Blythe had inherited her mother's determination.
They were announcing a scholarship program in Genevieve's name.
The crowd applauded.
I stood beside Elena.
She squeezed my hand.
“Can you believe it?”
“No.”
Jonah took the microphone.
“This place exists because my dad refused to let someone use our family to hurt people.”
Blythe added:
“And because Elena found the truth.”
Applause.
I looked at Elena.
She smiled.
After the ceremony, Jonah pulled me aside.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I want to study medicine.”
My chest tightened.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what it's like to be sick.”
He looked toward the research center.
“And I know what it's like when someone refuses to give up on you.”
I hugged him.
Blythe interrupted.
“I'm going into law.”
I laughed.
“Of course you are.”
“Someone has to make sure families like ours don't get destroyed by rich people.”
“You're planning to prosecute me?”
“Maybe.”
Elena laughed.
That evening we had dinner at home.
Four people around one table.
Ordinary.
Beautiful.
After dinner, Elena and I sat on the porch.
She rested her head on my shoulder.
“Do you ever think about the first day?”
“Every day.”
“The day I showed up?”
“The day I thought you were a criminal.”
“You did.”
“You were suspicious.”
“I was penniless.”
“Exactly.”
She laughed.
“You were terrifying.”
“I was trying to protect my children.”
“I know.”
We sat in silence.
Then she asked:
“Would you change anything?”
I thought for a long time.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“Nothing?”
“I wish Genevieve had lived.”
Her eyes softened.
“But I wouldn't change the life we built afterward.”
She kissed my cheek.
“I wouldn't either.”
Inside the house, Jonah shouted.
“Blythe stole my charger!”
Blythe shouted back.
“I didn't steal it!”
We looked at each other.
Then laughed.
“Still normal,” Elena said.
“The best kind.”
That night, we received one final letter.
It came from a lawyer handling Genevieve's estate.
The letter included an old memory card.
I played it.
Genevieve appeared on the screen.
She looked younger.
Happy.
Alive.
I couldn't breathe.
“Lawson,” she said.
“If you're watching this, then the children are safe.”
I closed my eyes.
“I hope you allowed yourself to be happy again.”
Elena sat beside me.
Genevieve smiled.
“And if you did, thank you.”
The video ended with one sentence.
Don't spend the rest of your life mourning me.
Spend it loving them.
I pressed my forehead against Elena's.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
May you like
Then I smiled.
“We did.”
