Whether she would have wanted to borrow my clothes or considered everything I owned hopelessly embarrassing.
Those questions would always belong to me.
But Lily was not the answer to them.
She was not the teenager Maggie should have become.
She was not a second chance.
She was not a substitute daughter sent to fill an empty place.
She was Lily.
My niece.
A clever, stubborn, sarcastic sixteen-year-old who loved mystery novels, teased me about my reading habits, and had carried far too much because the adults around her Browse Reference
had been afraid of the truth.
For months, whenever she entered my classroom, her face reminded me of everything death had taken from me.
Now the door opens, Lily walks in, tosses another ridiculous book recommendation onto my desk, and grins.
And when I look at her, I don’t see the future my daughter never had.
I see the girl standing in front of me.Character dolls
I see my niece.
I see Lily.
