Jake was kneeling in front of her, holding a small metallic object.
“JAKE!” I screamed.
He jumped, and the object fell onto the carpet.
It was a small pair of scissors.
“What are you doing to your sister?”
Lily immediately ran into my arms. I checked her hands and face, but there were no injuries.
“Grandma, Jake isn’t doing anything bad,” she whispered.
Jake stood in the corner, struggling to hold back tears.
“Grandma, please don’t be angry. I wanted to tell you, but…”
“Then explain why your sister keeps crying in this room!”
He lowered his head.
“Because she remembers Grandpa.”
My heart stopped.
My husband, Robert, had died eight months earlier. We had been married for forty-six years.
Since losing him, I had spent countless nights reaching across our empty bed, wishing he were still beside me.
I always tried to hide my grief from the children.
