Epilogue 2: Journey to Reconciliation
1359words
I knew what it was—a letter from William Morgan. The prison postmark on the envelope was clearly visible, the edges of the paper somewhat worn, as if it had been read repeatedly. Since his imprisonment, this was the first time he had initiated contact with us.
“He wants to see Leo,” Ethan’s voice was calm, but I could sense the tension in it. His fingers trembled slightly, creasing a corner of the letter. “He says he’s about to be paroled.”
I walked to his side, gently touching his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “What did he say?”
Ethan took a deep breath and handed me the letter. “He says he wants to make amends for some mistakes in the final stage of his life, wants to meet his only grandson. Doctors have diagnosed him with early-stage Parkinson’s disease.”
This request sparked a late-night discussion between us. Leo was already asleep, and we sat in the kitchen, wine glasses on the table reflecting the soft light. I understood Ethan’s hesitation—William had not only controlled his life but was also connected to my parents’ deaths. Yet at the same time, I contemplated the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation.
“He is Leo’s grandfather,” I said softly, my fingers gently rotating the wine glass, the red liquid sparkling in the light. “Whether we like it or not.”
“He’s also the man responsible for your parents’ deaths,” Ethan countered. “I don’t want Leo exposed to that kind of influence.”
I reached out to hold his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of his palm. “I have more reason than anyone to hate him, Ethan. But I also see Leo’s curiosity about family history; he’s starting to ask questions about his grandfather. We can’t hide the truth forever.”
Ethan’s expression softened somewhat as he gripped my hand in return. “I just don’t want him to hurt Leo, the way he hurt us.”
“We’ll be present,” I promised. “If anything seems inappropriate, we’ll end the meeting immediately.”
In the end, we decided to arrange a controlled meeting—in the park, limited to one hour, with both of us present.
On the day of the meeting, the sun shone brightly, cherry blossoms bloomed in the park, pink petals drifting in the wind like gentle snow. I nervously held Leo’s hand, feeling the warmth and slight dampness of his small palm. He wore his favorite dinosaur T-shirt and new jeans today, his black hair neatly combed by me, looking both excited and nervous.
“What kind of person is Grandpa?” he asked on the way, his green eyes full of curiosity.
Ethan and I exchanged a glance, unsure how to answer. Finally, Ethan crouched down to Leo’s eye level. “Leo. He’s done some wrong things, but he’s also your family. Today, we’re just going to meet him, okay?”
William was already waiting on a bench. He looked much older than I remembered, his hair completely white, deep wrinkles on his face, his hands trembling slightly. Prison life had left obvious marks on his face; the once towering business giant was now just an aging old man. To my surprise, the gift he brought wasn’t an expensive toy but a simple astronomy atlas.
Leo nodded, curiously examining this strange old man. “Are you really my grandpa?”
William smiled, a hint of sadness in his expression. “Yes, I am. Although I haven’t been a good grandfather, I hope to have a chance to get to know you.”
They began browsing through the astronomy atlas, William pointing out various constellations and telling stories from Greek mythology. Leo was quickly captivated, excitedly asking questions, completely forgetting his initial reserve. Ethan and I sat on a nearby bench, nervously observing, but as time passed, we gradually relaxed as well.
When Leo went to play on the slide, William turned to me, his voice low and trembling: “Ms. Reed, I know no words can compensate for the harm I caused your parents. They were outstanding scholars and excellent people. My greed and arrogance took their lives and also took away Leo’s chance to know his maternal grandparents.”
Tears glistened in his eyes, his vulnerability shocking me. “During these years in prison, I’ve reflected on my crimes every day. I don’t ask for your forgiveness, because I know some things cannot be forgiven. But I hope you know that my remorse is genuine.”
His candor shocked me; I never imagined this once-towering business magnate would so nakedly admit his crimes. A complex emotion welled up in me—not forgiveness, but no longer burning hatred either—rather, an understanding of the complexity of human nature.
Then he turned to Ethan, his voice more choked, fingers gripping the edge of the bench as if needing support to say what came next: “Son, I failed you. I never truly understood you, never supported your dreams. I saw you as a continuation of the Morgan family, not as a person with your own thoughts and feelings. Seeing you now—the family you’ve built, the path you’ve chosen—I’m proud of you, though I have no right to say so.”
Ethan’s expression was complex, showing both shock and undisguisable emotion. A glint of tears flashed in his eyes but was quickly blinked away. He didn’t respond, only nodded slightly, but this simple gesture seemed to give William some sense of relief.
As William stood to leave, Leo suddenly ran over and gave him a hug, his small arms encircling the old man’s waist. “See you next time, Grandpa.”
This simple gesture brought tears to William’s eyes. His trembling hand gently stroked Leo’s black hair, the movement careful, as if afraid of hurting this precious little life. “See you next time, little one.”
On the way home, Leo excitedly recounted the constellation knowledge his grandfather had taught him, but Ethan was unusually quiet, his eyes carrying a thoughtful look.
Late at night, I found Ethan on the balcony gazing at the stars, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his expression complex. Moonlight fell on his profile, highlighting his strong features, but his eyes held a rare vulnerability. I walked to his side, quietly accompanying him, feeling the cool night breeze caress my cheeks.
“I always thought I would never forgive him,” he finally spoke, his voice deep and contemplative. “But today, seeing how he interacted with Leo… that gentleness and patience, that’s something I never experienced.” He turned to me, his eyes showing confusion and hope. “He never treated me that way, Olivia. Never.”
I held his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of his fingers. “People change, Ethan. Sometimes because of loss, sometimes because of remorse, sometimes just because of time,” I said softly. “Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. Sometimes it just means letting go, not allowing yourself to be bound by anger anymore.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze returning to the stars. “Leo likes him.”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Children sometimes see things we can’t.”
A few days later, Ethan called William, inviting him to Leo’s school baseball game. I stood in the kitchen, listening as his voice gradually shifted from tense to relaxed, even letting out a light laugh at the end. After hanging up, he walked into the kitchen, his expression surprisingly peaceful, his eyes carrying a new light.
“You did the right thing,” I said softly, my fingers gently caressing his cheek.
“We did the right thing,” he corrected, pulling me into a warm embrace, his heartbeat steady and strong. “Together.”
In his embrace, I felt a deep contentment. Outside the window, spring breezes gently blew, cherry blossom petals drifting like snow. We stood there quietly, holding each other, feeling this precious gift life had given us—not the ability to forget the past, but the courage to move beyond it; not the absence of scars, but the strength to love, trust, and forgive despite them.
