For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I asked:
“Are they brothers?”
“We believe so.”
I stared at my mother.
She was no longer looking at us.
She was staring at the garden outside the kitchen window.
As though she expected someone to be standing there.
***
The following morning, I visited Mrs. Wilson in the hospital.
She looked better.
There was color in her cheeks, and a nurse had helped her brush her hair.
But when I entered, her smile faded.
“Emily.”
I pulled a chair beside her bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better now that I'm not in that basement.”
She attempted a small smile.
I took her hand.
“Mrs. Wilson, I need to ask you something.”
She nodded.
“Do you remember the Willow Creek Women's Trust?”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
For a moment, she looked terrified.
“Who told you about that?”
“My mother.”
She turned toward the window.
