He took a breath.
“It was written by my grandmother. The date was 1986.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What did it say?”
“She wrote that if you ever came to the cottage, I was not to let you go upstairs alone.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else did the note say?”
There was a long pause.
Then Lucas whispered, “It said the truth was not in the letters.”
A chill passed through me.
“What truth?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Read me the rest.”
“I can’t. The note ends there.”
“Then why did you call?”
“Because there was something written on the back.”
My pulse began to pound.
“What?”
Lucas’s voice dropped almost to silence.
“Your mother’s name.”
I stared at the old wooden box.
For forty years, I had believed Douglas’s mother had stolen the truth from us alone.
But now my own mother’s name had appeared beside hers.
