Chapter 2: The Letter With the Old Name
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the note.
The officer spoke gently.
"Ma'am, are you all right?"
I couldn't answer him.
I read the first line again, then again, trying to make the words mean something different.
*We are all here.
We are all safe.
But we need you to come.*
Below that, an address.
A community hall twenty minutes away.
"They asked us to deliver this personally," the officer said.
"All six of them called the station this morning."
I didn't understand.
Why would my children call the police?
Why not simply call me?
I grabbed my coat and drove to that address with my heart pounding the entire way.
When I pushed open the door, the room was dark.
Then the lights came on.
All six of my children were standing there.
Balloons.
A banner.
A cake with sixty candles already lit.
I should have felt relief.
But Sarah stepped forward, and her face wasn't smiling the way the others were.
She was holding something.
A letter.
Old, folded, with a name on the front I hadn't seen written down in over thirty years.
"Mom," she said quietly.
"We found this in Grandma's house after she passed.
We need to talk to you about what's inside."
The room went completely silent.
I recognized the handwriting before she even opened it.
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What was in that letter — and what secret had been hidden from her for thirty years?
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