Epilogue
MOMMA’S LETTER, MONTH TWELVE
Honeybee,
I know it’s likely been quite the month for you, competing (and winning?) this year’s Rose Palace Pageant.
Regardless of your status in the show’s rankings, please know I’m so proud of you.
Whatever’s in store for you, I’m rooting for you from my perch in heaven, hoping you’ll find all the happiness you deserve.
When you were young, I took you to the pageant to support your aunt’s passion for the hoopla, for the dresses and whimsy, for the snacks and silly nonsense of it all.
But I’m finally ready to admit as I near the end, there was another reason as well.
I wanted one person in particular to see that you existed, to get past their narcissistic lens, to behold you in all your wondrous beauty.
I stuck my hand as close to the flame as I dared.
Which brings me, one year after my death, to a final order of business, a bit of news I wish I’d had the courage to share with you while I was still on your side of life and death.
Alas, your mother was something of a coward when it came to sharing information that would change your life.
I apologize, but I know I can’t shirk the responsibility any longer.
Dearest, my Dakota, my Honeybee, as a child you asked about your father, and I always made up fairy tales to hide the truth.
I wanted to wait as long as possible, maybe forever, and I thought the news could keep at least until you could handle the idea of your mother committing an indiscretion, a one-night stand at the end of a drunken soiree celebrating the conclusion of the 1996 pageant.
I wanted you to stay out of that family’s shadow.
Because, you see, on that fateful night that brought you to me, I slept with Mr. Frederick Finch, owner of the Rose Palace Pageant.
The act was one of passion, though I’m sure you’d rather me not go into the details. Afterward I regretted it, that is until I realized that the night gave me you.
No one knew about what Frederick and I had done.
Well, of course he knew we’d been together, but I don’t think he ever paid enough attention to realize you were born about nine months after that night.
By the time you made an appearance, he’d closed the hotel at The Rose and announced the birth of Savilla.
Though it was tempting to ask him for financial help over the years, frankly, I didn’t want him involved in our lives.
Living in Aubergine, I’ve watched the way the Finches operate as if they are somehow one of us and above us at the same time.
I didn’t want to owe him, I didn’t want him making decisions on your behalf, and I certainly didn’t want him luring you, an impressionable child, into his extravagant lifestyle.
It is true that he could’ve provided ample child support, but we had plenty—until we didn’t and, at that point, after so many years, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth.
I’m sorry, but please know I only acted out of the intense love I felt the first time your tiny foot gave me a little kick.
Now it’s your turn to decide what to do with this information.
You could be wealthy. You could be co-owner of a giant mansion and a silly pageant.
Heck, you could have a sister. Whatever you decide, I know it will be a grand adventure.
Forgive me for not telling you sooner, and be the amazing Dakota I know you are.
Love,
Momma