How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 631

Elodie hadn't slept a wink last night, and the storm of emotions had left her utterly drained. Her body felt leaden, every muscle aching with exhaustion.

She sipped a glass of water to soothe her parched throat, then shuffled back to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. It surprised her how much energy it took just to be angry, to shout and argue. She was realizing, with a kind of helpless resignation, that she no longer had the strength for these endless battles.

Sleep didn't come easily. She drifted in and out, her mind restless and unsettled.

Late in the morning, the doorbell rang.

Elodie forced herself up, weary limbs protesting. She peered through the peephole and saw a courier waiting on the porch.

She wracked her brain, trying to remember if she'd ordered anything, but nothing came to mind.

"Ms. Thorne, I have a package for you. Could you please sign here?"

She glanced at the label-the box was definitely addressed to her, name and phone number printed in neat block letters.

"Thank you. Have a good day," she managed, accepting the parcel and closing the door behind her.

The box wasn't heavy. She weighed it in her hands, then checked the shipping label. It had been sent from a small, remote town, somewhere she'd never even heard of. The shipment date was a week ago.

She opened the box and found, right on top, a large envelope containing a certificate.

pulled it out and unfolded it. For a moment, she simply stared,

receipts for various contributions. But

counties and small towns, some so distant she had to double- check the

had come from

the

with local specialties foods

In

carefully wrapped.

all over, their eyes bright but their faces

small. Most looked shy in the pictures, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in their gazes,

were letters-thank you notes from teachers

very

from

words were

thanks. The principal wrote

the school had finally opened just a few weeks ago. He mentioned Elodie and Jarrod by name, saying they'd brought hope to children who'd had so little, that they'd changed the lives of

steady flow of gratitude washing over her. She'd never actually been involved in any of

these children's stories.

Suddenly, the memory

gala. Jarrod had gone with Sylvie, and the evening had

@rgument between the