“And you stopped asking?”
“Eventually.”
“Why?”
Was Grace his daughter?
“Because every answer threatened to destroy the life I had.”
I picked up Noah’s photograph. “Does he look like Dad to you?”
Mom didn’t answer.
“Look at him.”
“I did.”
Your father told me not to worry about it.
“And?”
Her voice broke. “That’s what frightens me.”
For the first time, I realized she might genuinely not know.
I stood. “I’m leaving.”
“Wait.”
Every answer threatened to destroy the life I had.
Mom disappeared into the hallway and returned with an envelope.
My name was written across the front in Dad’s handwriting.
“What is that?”
“Something I promised myself I would never give you.”
“Why?”
I realized she might genuinely not know.
“Because your father is dead. Linda is dead. I thought Grace was gone from our lives too.”
“She is dead.”
Mom closed her eyes.
