***
I called my mother the following afternoon, my hands shaking as I gripped the phone.
« Mom, can you come over? Now. Please. »
She arrived 20 minutes later. She barely glanced at me before her gaze landed on the box at the table.
« What’s going on, Tanya? Are the girls okay? »
I called my mother.
« No, the girls are fine, » I said. I slid the photo and the letter across to her. « I found these under Mr. Whitmore’s apple tree. »
My mother reached for the photo. « Why were you digging in his yard? »
« He asked me to. After the funeral, I got a letter. He wanted me to know the truth. »
I watched my mother’s face as she read. I watched the color drain.
She clutched the letter. « Where did you… How long have you known? »
« Why were you digging in his yard? »
« Just since yesterday. Why, Mom? Why didn’t you ever tell me? » I tried to keep my voice calm, but it cracked. « You let him live right next door all this time. »
She dropped into a chair, tears shining.
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