Chapter 13 - Diane’s Relationship With Rachel Never Became Warm
Three years passed.
Noah became a loud, curious toddler who loved boats and hated peas.
Diane adored him.
Rachel allowed that relationship.
Still did not become Diane’s daughter.
That expectation disappeared.
They were civil.
Sometimes genuinely friendly.
Often not.
One Thanksgiving Diane criticized Rachel’s pie.
Rachel said:
“Then don’t eat it.”
Diane did not.
Progress.
No personal war.
Then Diane apologized one more time for the lakehouse.
Not dramatically.
Rachel and Diane were alone in the kitchen after dinner.
Diane said:
“I remember your face when I pulled your hair.”
Rachel became still.
Diane continued.
“You were holding Noah and your first instinct was to protect him. Mine was to hurt you.”
Rachel waited.
“I have spent years wanting to believe I just lost my temper.”
“And?”
“I chose the words first. Then the hand.”
Specific.
Rachel nodded.
Diane continued.
“I wanted you outside the family because I believed I had earned the right to decide who belonged.”
That was the deeper problem.
Then:
“I hadn’t.”
Rachel looked at her.
“No.”
No comforting qualification.
Diane accepted.
Then asked:
“Do you forgive me?”
Rachel thought.
“Enough to stand in a kitchen with you.”
Diane almost smiled.
“That sounds limited.”
“It is.”
Honest.
May you like
Forgiveness could have boundaries too.
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