“She wrote to me every year.”
He pressed the letter against his chest and bowed his head.
“I spent every birthday wondering why she didn’t love me enough to call.”
His voice broke.
“And all that time, she was waiting for me to answer.”
Mia moved closer and rested her hand on his shoulder.
Kyle stared at the unopened envelopes.
“How am I supposed to grieve 30 years I never knew were stolen from me?”
Mia quietly wiped tears from her face.
“So Grandpa lied?”
Kyle nodded slowly.
“I think he did.”
The following afternoon, we drove to Robert’s house.
He answered the door after several knocks.
His hair had turned completely white.
He looked at Kyle, then at Gladys sitting in the passenger seat, and the color drained from his face.
“You found her.”
Kyle held up the bundle of letters.
“Did you?”
Robert looked away.
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“She was getting sick.”
“So you erased her from my life?”
Robert’s shoulders sagged.
