***
Detective Palmer drove me across two state lines the following morning. Rick was already in jail.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I held the small velvet pouch containing the earrings.
“I always knew!”
***
As we turned onto a quiet street, Palmer
said, “Beverly is your SIL’s neighbor who took Hannah in after the funeral. Nothing official, just a kind woman who didn’t want the teenager to be alone in that house.”
Beverly met us at the door of a soft yellow house with a porch swing. She had kind eyes and flour on her apron.
“She’s in the living room,” Beverly said gently. “I told her that someone who loves her very much was coming.”
“Beverly is your SIL’s neighbor.”
***
Hannah was standing by the window when I walked in. She was taller than I’d ever imagined.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered.
Her head turned slowly, and her eyes filled with tears.
“I know that voice,” she said. “I’ve been trying to remember it my whole life!”
I crossed the room, and she met me halfway. We didn’t say anything for a long time.
Her eyes filled with tears.
***
Later, Beverly brought out
the letter Judith had left behind. Hannah read it aloud with a trembling hand.
“She wrote that she suspected Dad lied,” my daughter said. “That she was sorry she didn’t dig deeper.”
“She loved you,” I told her. “That much is clear.”
“But you never stopped looking?” Hannah asked.
“No, baby. I couldn’t.”
I opened the pouch and placed the earrings in her palm.
Hannah read it aloud.
“You said you’d never take them off,” I said. “Do you remember?”
Hannah nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks. She put them back in, right where they belonged.
***
I filed for divorce the following week. The law was handling Rick, and my energy belonged to Hannah now.
We started small.
