Mrs. Wilson wiped her eyes.
“I used to imagine what it would be like to hear someone call me Grandma.”
I smiled.
“Was it worth waiting for?”
She laughed softly.
“Every second.”
Then her expression became thoughtful.
“You know, Emma, there's something I want you to understand.”
“What?”
“I never stopped loving the daughter I lost.”
I squeezed her hand.
“But I was afraid.”
She looked toward Mom, who was talking with Helen near the community garden.
“I was afraid Ruth wouldn't want me. Afraid I'd make her feel she had to choose between me and the wonderful people who raised her.”
She paused.
“And later, I was simply afraid to change the happiness I already had.”
I nodded.
“I understand.”
Mrs. Wilson shook her head gently.
“That doesn't make my silence right.”
I looked at her.
She continued.
“I should have told Ruth. I should have trusted her with the truth. Fear stole years from both of us.”
