I turned toward her.
“You tried to come back?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Four months later, Marcus was gone. I wanted home.”
“Leaving the hospital was exactly what it looked like. I panicked. I was selfish. Marcus and I ran because I thought three babies would destroy my life.”
Her voice shook.
“Four months later, Marcus was gone. I wanted home.”
“Then what?”
“I wrote again on their first birthday. Then Christmas. Then again.”
“I wrote you.”
“No answer.”
“I wrote again on their first birthday. Then Christmas. Then again.”
I shook my head.
“No. I never got anything.”
Claire handed me several photocopies.
She closed her eyes.
“I thought you hated me.”
“I did,” I said. “But I would’ve answered.”
She whispered, “I know now.”
Claire handed me several photocopies.
“It was the address we used after Mom and Dad left.”
The addresses were familiar before I consciously recognized them.
My stomach tightened.
“Carol’s house?”
Vanessa nodded.
“It was the address we used after Mom and Dad left. School forms, medical paperwork, everything. When you took the girls, I thought you still got mail there.”
“Because some weren’t returned by the post office.”
Aunt Carol had helped me survive those first months. She knew every court date, every social worker, every change of address.
I looked at June.
“Why didn’t the post office forward them?”
June took the papers back.
“Because some weren’t returned by the post office.”
Across the front, somebody had written RETURN TO SENDER in thick black ink.
My skin prickled.
“What?”
June held up one envelope.
Across the front, somebody had written RETURN TO SENDER in thick black ink.
“We thought it looked strange,” she said. “Then Vanessa showed us another. And another.”
I had seen that handwriting on permission slips, birthday cards, grocery lists.
Przeczytaj więcej, klikając przycisk ( DALEJ »» ) poniżej!
