Before Paige could say anything else, Pastor Reynolds stepped forward carrying a small sealed envelope I had given him earlier that morning. He cleared his throat, and the remaining whispers disappeared from the chapel.
“Before we begin, Clara has asked for one family matter to be addressed.”
Paige’s smile faded.
I glanced toward Mom’s empty chair and the blue scarf resting across it. For months, I had wondered whether following her instructions was cruel, compassionate, or somehow both, but now there was no turning back.
Pastor Reynolds looked directly at Paige.
“Your mother left something for you.”
The color disappeared from my sister’s face.
After Mom died, I had found a cedar box beneath her bed containing two letters, one addressed to me and another meant for Paige. Mine was simple: Mom told me to marry with a clean heart and warned me not to carry bitterness with me to the altar.
Paige’s letter was different.
Mom had hidden it inside the lining of a white silk dress she had ordered before her illness became too severe. Along with it, she had left instructions that made almost no sense to me at the time.
If your sister ever wears white to your wedding, don’t stop her. Let her. Then give her this.
