“There’s something in the garden,” she said.
I frowned slightly. “In the garden?”
She nodded weakly.
“Under the old apple tree. I buried something there years ago.”
A chill crept down my spine.
“What is it?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“The truth about Karl.”
My heart skipped.
“Gran, what do you mean?”
But instead of explaining, she simply squeezed my hand.
“When I’m gone,” she said, “promise me you’ll
dig there.”
“Why?”
“Because he won’t tell you,” she replied.
Her breathing grew shallow.
“You deserve to know.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but she had already closed her eyes.
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