Reminding me about your mom is not bad.

Loving your mom is not bad.

Being her daughter is not bad.

And nobody in this whole world is ever going to punish you for being Rebecca’s little girl.

Not ever.” She searched my face, the way a child does when she is deciding whether it is safe to believe you, and then her lower lip trembled and she said the worst of it, the part that told me exactly how far this had gone.

“Brenda said you would agree with her, after the wedding was over,” she whispered.