“I don’t remember that at all.”
“You were four.”
She set the cutter down between us.
“He called me that same afternoon. He was crying so hard I could barely make out the words. He told me he’d made the pancakes. He said he’d said Miley’s name out loud for the first time in years, and it hadn’t destroyed him.”
My hand tightened on the edge of the table.
“He didn’t hand you something that used to belong to his daughter,” Caroline said. “You gave him a way to keep her close without it killing him to remember her.”
The kitchen blurred behind my tears. “Then what was the lie?”
She looked toward the window, gathering herself.
“After your mother died, Frank packed his truck.”
My stomach dropped. “He was going to leave?”
“He drove straight here, that same night. He said your aunt could raise you. He said staying would be selfish of him.”
