Part 2: Before my husband passed away, he asked me to deliver a sealed letter to a woman I'd never met — after she read the first line, she looked at me and asked, "Did he tell you everything?"

What neither of you knows yet is that Rebecca asked me for one final thing.

She asked me to bring Emily to her.

I told her I would.

Then my cancer was diagnosed.

I failed again.

Below that was an address.

A rehabilitation facility.

And one handwritten sentence:

Please don't let my last promise become another thirty-year delay.

I stared at Catherine.

She stared at me.

Then asked:

“Are you going?”

I thought of Emily.

My daughter.

Rebecca's daughter.

Both statements true.

Then I asked the question neither of us had yet spoken.

“What are we going to tell Emily?”
CHAPTER 4 — I THOUGHT THE WORST SECRET WAS THAT EMILY WASN’T BIOLOGICALLY MINE. THEN I FOUND THE GRAVE OF THE BABY I NEVER KNEW I LOST

I did not call Emily immediately.

That may sound hypocritical.

After everything Zane had done, another delay.

But there is a difference between hiding truth indefinitely and taking twelve hours to keep yourself from delivering it while unable to stand.