I took my daughter, terminally ill to stage IV cancer

“For Lily, from the grandmother she never got to know.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Mommy?”S, Lily asked. “Who is it?”

I couldn’t answer.

Because there was something in the box that I recognized immediately.

My mother’s necklace.

A thin silver necklace with a small shell-shaped pendant.

My mother had worn it almost every day throughout my childhood.

She died eight years before Lily was born.

Or at least, that’s what I thought had happened to the necklace after her death.

“Where did you get this?” I asked.

The manager clasped his hands together.

“Your father came here about three weeks ago.”

I suddenly looked up.

“Dad?”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

Just a few days earlier, Robert had told me that his back hurt too badly for him to travel with us.

The manager continued:

“He personally booked the room and left us the box. He asked us to give it to you on the first evening, after the little girl had seen the sea.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Why?”

“I think the letter explains.”

Under the card was an envelope.

My father’s handwriting was on it.

“Rachel.”

I opened the envelope.

“My dear,

If you’re reading this, Lily has seen the sea.

That’s all that matters.

I lied to you when I told you the money was from old savings.”

I stopped.

Lily had climbed up beside me on the bed.

“Read it, Mommy.”

I continued.

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