Chapter 26 - THE SENTENCE AND THE LETTER
The judge accepted the negotiated misdemeanor plea.
No jail.
No dramatic destruction.
Morgause had no prior record.
No lasting physical injury.
She had complied with orders.
She had begun counseling.
But the court emphasized:
She had been warned before.
She had promised to stop.
She had hidden the warning.
Then repeated the conduct.
Sentence:
Eighteen months probation.
Restitution for replacement glasses and related medical evaluation.
Continued counseling.
Parenting-boundary program.
No direct contact with Eluned for the remainder of the existing protective period.
After that, any contact only if:
Eluned’s therapist supported it.
I consented.
A structured therapeutic setting was used initially.
No messages through Cerys.
No interference with corrective lenses, medication, food, or school accommodations of any child in her care.
Some conditions sounded obvious.
Apparently obvious needed writing.
Then my own diversion had already completed.
Restitution paid.
No conviction.
I continued counseling voluntarily.
Then the letter.
The probate executor ruled Dad’s original handwritten letter belonged to Eluned as intended personal correspondence.
Because she was a minor, I held it for her.
I did not put it on a wall.
Did not frame:
YOU ARE NOT A BURDEN.
That would turn pain into decoration.
I placed it in a document box.
Eluned knew where.
She could read it when older.
Then Morgause asked through counsel for one copy.
Why?
“It is my father’s handwriting too.”
I wanted to refuse.
Naomi asked:
“Is your objection about privacy or punishment?”
I thought.
Some parts concerned Eluned.
Private.
But Morgause already knew the contents and was part of the events.
The executor allowed a redacted copy of Dad’s general closing lines, not the child-specific letter in full.
Fair.
No one owns every last word of a dead parent.
Then Owen brought Cerys over.
The girls played in the yard.
Morgause remained elsewhere.
Eleanor? no. Aunt Gwyneth hosted maybe. We can keep at Quillon's home.
Cerys had new reading glasses.
Purple.
Eluned stared.
“Copycat.”
Cerys laughed.
“Mine are darker.”
Then:
“My mom says I need them for school.”
Eluned asked:
“Did she step on them?”
Cerys went quiet.
“No.”
Eluned nodded.
“Good.”
No speech.
Then they went back to drawing.
That evening I received one final legal notice.
Protective order review would occur in three months.
Not a mystery.
Not a threat.
Just a date.
I put it on the calendar.
The main conflict was resolved.
May you like
The future relationship was not predetermined.
That was healthier.
