“You wrote every single one of them,” Hannah said. “For eleven years. You sat at the kitchen table and pretended to be the woman who left me, so I wouldn’t feel forgotten. You had Aunt Denise mail them from Tucson so I’d never know. And you never told me. Not once. Not even this year.”
Her voice broke completely. “Not even when I stood in your garden and accused you of keeping my mother away from me. Not even when I left you out of everything. You just let me believe it.Shop Sofas
You let me hate you a little. Because you didn’t want to take the cards away from me.”
I put my face in my hands.
“I called Aunt Denise,” Hannah said. “Two weeks ago. I asked her if she’d ever mailed anything for
you. She cried on the phone for twenty minutes. She said she’d mailed every single one, and you made her promise never to tell.”
