Chapter 9 - GERTRUDE ASKED TO MEET HER GRANDDAUGHTER
Camila was seven months old when Gertrude wrote to me.
Not Gabriel.
Me.
The first three pages were useless.
Raymond.
Grief.
Stress.
Generational differences.
Then came one sentence worth reading.
I treated you like your labor belonged to me because you married my son.
I stopped.
Continued.
When you became pregnant, I still expected you to prove your place by serving us.
Closer.
Then:
Dumping the water on you was cruel. Gabriel’s financial lies do not excuse the way I treated you before I knew about them.
That mattered.
For the first time, Gertrude separated her behavior from Gabriel’s deception.
She did not ask for immediate forgiveness.
She asked whether, someday, I would consider allowing her to meet Camila under whatever boundaries I chose.
I did not answer for another six months.
When I finally did, the first meeting happened in a public park.
Gabriel was there.
So was Mom.
Gertrude held Camila only after asking.
That tiny question told me more than the entire letter.
“May I?”
May you like
I said yes.
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