Chapter 9 - Closing the Door
Six months later, the dust finally settled.
Chloe received three years of probation and 500 hours of community service for the car incident, saved from jail time only by throwing our mother under the bus.
Brenda wasn't so lucky. The judge didn't take kindly to a grandmother stealing from her unborn grandchild. She was sentenced to four years in a state penitentiary for felony fraud and forgery. She was ordered to pay back every cent of the $45,000 in restitution.
The bank foreclosed on my childhood home. All of Brenda's precious, hoarded belongings were auctioned off to pay her legal fees.
On the day she was transferred to the prison, she used her one phone call to dial my number. I don't know how she got it, as I had changed it twice.
“Sarah,” she sobbed into the receiver. Real tears this time. “Please. You have to help me. I’m your mother. You can't let them do this to me. Forgive me.”
I stood on the back porch of my beautiful home. The sun was shining. Inside, Marcus was making pancakes, bouncing a giggling six-month-old Leo on his hip. The air smelled like coffee and fresh cut grass.
“I do forgive you, Brenda,” I said softly.
“Oh, thank God—”
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“I forgive you,” I continued, my voice steady. “Because carrying around hate for you is too exhausting. But forgiveness doesn't mean access. You made your choices. Now, you have to live with them. Have a good life, Brenda.”
I hung up, blocked the number, and dropped the phone into my pocket.
