“I don’t know.”
Luke did.
When I asked him, he returned carrying an old shoebox.
Inside were copies of dozens of letters.
Birthday letters.
Letters ending with the same sentence.
Christmas letters.
Letters asking about school.
Letters ending with the same sentence.
I’m still your brother.
“She never answered one,” Luke said.
A few days later, she told me Emma’s parents were willing to talk, but they wanted to move slowly.
Something wasn’t right.
Denise made several calls. A few days later, she told me Emma’s parents were willing to talk, but they wanted to move slowly.
“Maybe we should wait before putting Luke and Emma in the same room,” she said. “Let the adults work through the history first.”
I stared at her.
“The adults have been deciding what those two can handle for years.”
“I’m asking you not to turn ‘slowly’ into another few years.”
