“It’s Ms. Knudsen, actually. I’ve gone back to my maiden name.”

Mrs. Sanderson’s eyes narrow. “Yes, well, you’re Meg’s mom? The one who got pregnant as a teen and never told the father?” Her lips curl in a cruel way. “I’ve heard all about you.”

Before my mom can say anything, I speak up. “Enough is enough.” My voice is quiet, but rings with finality. “Are you above forgiveness, Mrs. Sanderson? Because I’m not. I’m not perfect. My mom’s not perfect. You’re not perfect, and your daughter is not perfect. Thank goodness Jesus didn’t ask us to be perfect. He asked us to love.

“I’m not apologizing for loving Micah. We’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry you think this disqualifies me to teach your daughter. But to answer your question, no. I will not be the one leading her in youth group. Because while I know in my heart that God is love, I’m very murky on the rest these days.

“But I do have one thing to ask of you.” I glance at the window where Becca is watching. Her mom follows my gaze and sees her. “Someday, maybe soon, your daughter will have questions about what it is to be human and alive and loved. I beg you: Don’t make her feel as dirty and shameful as you’ve made me feel.” My words wobble a bit. Even if she’s wrong, it still hurts. “You see, I have friends and family who are there to remind me that God doesn’t make mistakes, but she might not.”

I hold out a hand to my mom, whose eyes are overflowing with approval. There’s a lot we need to work out. Years of heartache and misunderstandings will be rehashed. But we have time for that, and I’m ready to hear her out. We walk back to my uncle’s house, leaving Mrs. Sanderson gaping behind us.

“Are you able to stay for a little while?”

She nods and grins at Micah. “Nice to meet you, by the way.”

“Sorry, Mom, this is Micah. He’s my … I love him,” I finish, feeling my cheeks heat. “And Cash, my favorite dog in the world.”

“As I said, nice to meet you, Micah.” My mom smiles warmly. “I’ve been praying for you for a long time.”

The following morning, my mom arrives bright and early after picking up Betty. James invited my mom to stay at the house with us last night, but she declined, saying she’d gotten a hotel room. It’s evident to everyone that she feels awkward around Andrew’s family, and I’m trying to put myself in her shoes. Imagine meeting the fam nearly nineteen years after the fact! If Andrew were alive, she’d probably have murdered him for stranding her with strangers.