how will he forgive me?”
Beneath the letter, my mother had written a reply.
“Then make sure he never finds out.”
I stayed in the attic until the light had moved across the floor.
Downstairs, Carol’s glasses were still on the recliner. I picked them up, folded them, and sat with them in my hands.
I could remember her getting up through the night with Rebecca. The pride on her face at our daughter’s graduation. The way she had cried when our first grandson was born.
I knew she had loved us.
I also knew what that love had allowed her to hide.
For the first time since her death, I was angry enough to want her back so I could ask her how she had done it.
PART 6: What Anna Had Missed
I called Anna before making the drive back.
“I found records,” I told her. “I need
