“Mom?” Caleb called.
“I’m fine, sweetheart!” I lied again.
I shoved the papers into my arms and climbed down. Back in our bedroom, I spread everything across the bed. There was a return address on one of Caroline’s letters. Birch Lane.
I didn’t need a city name. It was ours and only 20 minutes away.
I gathered everything and placed it inside my bedside drawer.
I lied again.
If I waited, I would talk myself out of it.
So I walked over to my neighbor, Kelly, and asked if she could watch the kids for a few moments. She was a stay-at-home mom with an 11-year-old son, and she loved kids. Kelly gladly accepted and welcomed my little troops.
The oldest one looked at me suspiciously before entering Kelly’s house.
Back home, I grabbed my keys.
The drive to Birch Lane felt unreal.
If I waited, I would talk myself out of it.
What if she slammed the door?
What if she didn’t know he was dead?
What if she hated me?
I parked in front of a modest blue house with white shutters. Then I walked up to the door and knocked. Footsteps approached. When the door opened, my breath left my body.
Caroline stood there. She wasn’t a stranger, but the woman who used to live three houses down from Daniel and me before disappearing! She’d brought over banana bread when Emma was born.
She wasn’t a stranger.
The moment she saw me, her face drained of color.
“Claire,” she whispered.
