Eventually, Mom apologized, and we took the photograph together.
In the
picture, Amanda was holding my hand so tightly that our fingers were pressed together.
I turned the album toward her.
“Do you remember why you’re holding my hand?”
Amanda stared at it.
For a moment, she looked nothing like the angry bride standing before me.
She looked like my little sister again.
“You wouldn’t let Mom move me,” she whispered.
“Because there was nothing wrong with your face.”
Tears slipped down Amanda’s cheeks.
“I remember.”
“I spent years making sure you never felt like you had to hide your face,” I said. “I never thought I’d have to protect my daughter from you.”
The words hung between us.
Amanda looked down at her bouquet.
“I just wanted everything to be perfect.”
I shook my head.
“Sophie wasn’t going to ruin anything.”
Travis stepped closer to Amanda.
