That was when Hannah stood.
“This is insane.”
“Hannah—”
“No.”
She backed away from us.
“You all lied to me for eighteen years.”
“We thought—”
“I know what you thought.”
She looked at David.
“You kept all of this?”
“Yes.”
“But you still didn’t tell me?”
“I should have.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He went quiet.
Her eyes moved toward me.
“Because Mom wouldn’t let you?”
David shook his head.
“That isn’t fair. We were both afraid.”
Hannah gave a short, bitter laugh.
“Great.”
Then she walked inside.
I followed.
She grabbed her purse.
“Where are you going?”
“I need space.”
“Please don’t leave like this.”
She turned toward me.
“How exactly am I supposed to leave?”
I had no answer.
She spent the night at my sister’s house.
The next morning, David placed the wooden chest on our dining table.
I couldn’t stop staring at it.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?”
He looked exhausted.
“Because you would have gotten rid of it.”
“I would not.”
He gave me a look.
“You dismantled Rosie’s crib before I came home from the funeral home.”
“That was different.”
“You made your mother remove the hospital photograph.”
“I couldn’t look at it.”
“Exactly.”
I sat down.
David ran his hand over the chest.
“I didn’t plan to keep it from you forever.”
“Eighteen years isn’t forever?”
