But finally, I understood why she’d done it.
The following week passed in a blur.
I spent most of it trying to understand the life Daniel had left behind—and the part of that life he had never even known existed.
Then one afternoon, Ben discovered a few apples that Monica had missed at the very top of one tree.
We picked them together.
That evening, I used them to bake Daniel’s favorite apple pie.
Then Ben and I carried it next door.
Monica looked shocked when she opened the door.
“I haven’t forgiven you,” I told her.
She lowered her eyes.
“But Luke is Daniel’s son.”
She looked back at me.
“And that means he’s Ben’s brother.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
“I think we’ve all lost enough,” I continued. “Maybe instead of fighting over whatever pieces of Daniel are left, we should learn how to share them.”
I held out the pie.
Monica’s eyes filled with tears.
She took it slowly and stepped aside.
Luke was standing behind her.
And for the first time, when I looked at him, I didn’t see Monica’s son.
I saw my husband’s.
