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She ran toward us.
“Emily, don’t hide anything from me anymore!”
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But before I could answer, Grandpa turned toward the opposite bank of the stream.
“Sarah, look over there first…”
We both turned.
My mother rushed into the stream, grabbed my hand, and stood between Grandpa and me.
“Emily, you’re coming with me. Right now!”
I tried to speak.
“Mom, wait…”
“No! I’ve heard everything!”
Grandpa slowly approached us.
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“Sarah, you’ve misunderstood.”
“Then explain yourself! Why are you here? Why does my daughter come home trembling with fear every single day?”
Grandpa pointed toward the opposite bank.
There, behind a large tree, stood an old wooden bench.
Beside the bench sat a woman in a wheelchair.
My mother froze.
“Who… who is that?”
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The woman lifted her head.
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“Sarah?”
All the color drained from my mother’s face.