Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Eight: The Other Letter
The discovery happened by accident, as most discoveries did in the Blackwood family.
Lina was exploring the attic again, as she often did, searching for old photographs and forgotten treasures. The attic was dusty and cluttered, filled with boxes that had not been opened in decades. She loved the attic. It felt like a museum of her family's history, a place where the past was still alive.
She found the letter tucked inside an old book, a collection of poetry that had belonged to Grace. The envelope was yellowed with age, the handwriting faded, the seal broken.
Lina pulled out the letter and unfolded it.
Dear Grace,
If you're reading this, I'm gone. Or you're gone. Or we're both gone.
I'm writing because I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you years ago. Something I was too afraid to say.
You were always my favorite.
Not because you were the most talented. Not because you were the most successful. Because you were the most like her.
You had her fire. Her determination. Her stubbornness.
You reminded me of your grandmother every single day.
I watched you reach for the stars, and I saw her reaching with you.
I watched you walk on Mars, and I saw her walking beside you.
I'm proud of you, Grace. I've always been proud of you.
—Lily
Lina read the letter three times.
Then she carried it downstairs and found Lily in the garden.
"Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma," Lina said, her voice shaking. "I found something."
---
Lily read the letter.
Her hands were trembling. Her eyes were filled with tears.
"I wrote this," Lily said. "I don't remember writing it."
Lina nodded. "It was hidden. In the attic. In one of Grace's books."
Lily looked at her. "I must have written it after she died. I must have hidden it away."
Lina took her hand. "She would have loved it."
Lily smiled. "I hope so."
---
The family gathered that night.
The penthouse was filled with people. Every generation was there, from the oldest to the youngest. The rooms were crowded with whispers and questions, the air thick with anticipation.
Lily stood at the front of the room, the letter in her hands.
"I have something to share," she said.
The room quieted.
She read the letter aloud.
When she finished, the room was silent.
Then Stella stood up. She was one hundred and one years old, frail but still sharp.
"Mother," Stella said. "You wrote that?"
Lily nodded. "I did."
Stella's eyes filled with tears. "Grace would have loved it."
Lily walked to her daughter and took her hand. "I hope so."
---
Lina wrote a new chapter for her book.
She wrote about the letter. About Lily's love for Grace. About the connection between generations.
She wrote about love and loss and healing.
When she finished, she read it to Lily.
Lily cried.
"It's beautiful," she said.
Lina shook her head. "It's the truth."
Lily pulled her into her arms. "That's the same thing."
---
That night, Lina sat in the garden with Lily.
The stars were out, scattered across the sky like tiny diamonds. The air was cool and quiet. The city hummed in the distance.
"Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma," Lina said, "do you think Grace is watching us? Right now?"
Lily looked up at the sky. "I know she is."
Lina pointed to a bright star. "Is that her?"
Lily nodded. "That's her."
Lina stared at the star for a long time. "Hi, Grace," she whispered. "Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandma wrote you a letter. She said you were her favorite. She said you reminded her of your grandmother."
The star twinkled.
Lina gasped. "She blinked at me!"
Lily smiled. "She's saying she loves you."
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End of Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Eight