Mom looked away.
‘Grace knew about you. She asked about you constantly. She wanted to meet you. I kept telling her I needed more time.’
I was ashamed of how she came into my life.
My chest tightened.
“He let her think he was ashamed of her.”
“Maybe he was.”
“No. He was ashamed of himself.”
She wanted to meet you.
“That doesn’t make it better.”
There was one final paragraph.
‘If I don’t get the chance to fix this myself, please find her. None of this was her fault, and none of it was yours. She deserved a sister. You deserved the truth.’
Something hit me. “She was alive for two years after you found this.”
Mom began crying. “I kept telling myself there was still time.”
He was ashamed of himself.
“You could have given it to me.”
“I was afraid.”
“I could have met her.”
