Make Them Regret It Chapter 30
On the seventh day after I arrived in Boston, I finally met my grandmother.
It was raining.
I stood in front of a brownstone and knocked three times. When the door opened, a silver-haired woman held onto the frame and looked at me for a long time.
“You’re Blythe.”
She didn’t have to ask.
My mother always said I had her eyes.
I dropped to my knees in the rain and bowed my head.
“Grandmother, I came to see you for Mom.”
The faint smile on her face slowly vanished.
“Where is your mother?”
Rain drummed against the stone steps.
On the way here, I had rehearsed a hundred times how I would tell her about that night. But when the moment came, all I could say was, “She passed away.”
My grandmother’s hand slipped on the doorframe, and she nearly fell.
I surged forward to steady her.
She didn’t cry. She just gripped my wrist with crushing force.
“How did she die?”
I helped her inside and told her everything, right from the beginning.
How my father and the others had staged a performance. How the supplies meant for the chapel had been intercepted.
How my mother had torn strips from her dress to bind my sister-in-law’s wound.
At the end, I told her that when my mother died, she was leaning against my other grandmother, her hands resting peacefully in her lap.