Kevin nodded at Ethan, gently. “Go ahead, son. Bring the tin.”
Ethan disappeared down the hall to their bedroom. I heard a closet door, a thump, and the shuffle of his socks coming back. When he walked in, he was holding an old square biscuit tin, the blue kind with a faded picture of a Scottish castle on the lid.
I knew that tin. It had held my grandmother’s sewing buttons until I was twelve.
Before I tell you what was inside, you should know who I was when I last felt this frightened.
I was sixteen when I found out I was pregnant. I took the test in the bathroom of the Dairy Barn on Route 9, with my back pressed against the door, praying that two lines were a trick of the light.
Daniel, my boyfriend since sophomore year, listened to the news on the bleachers behind the football field. He threw up both hands. “Well, that’s your problem now. I’m not going to ruin my life over this.”
