An unexpected call from my daughter left me spending a Wednesday afternoon with my 8-year-old granddaughter. Everything seemed normal until she drew our family tree, pointed to a woman I didn’t recognize, and admitted her mother had asked her to keep the woman’s identity secret.
Laura never asked me to pick Dori up from school in the middle of the week, so the moment she called that Wednesday afternoon, I knew something was wrong.
“Mom, can you pick Dori up from school today?”
“Today? Is everything okay?”
There was a pause, the kind where you can hear someone swallowing a lot of words.
I knew something was wrong.
“I have something urgent to deal with.”
“Laura, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t talk right now. Please, just take her home with you.”
Then she hung up.
My daughter, who says goodbye even to telemarketers, hung up on me.
“I have something urgent to deal with.”
