And the answer had been sitting in a file in Massachusetts for twelve years.
“He cried when I told him,” Evelyn said quietly. “That’s what you heard through the door. He was so relieved. And then he got angry. At himself. Because he knew he was dying, and he’d run out of time to tell you. And he knew there was the small cyst that needed to be watched, and he wouldn’t be there to make sure you went back.”
“So he wrote the letter.”
“So he wrote the letter. And he made me promise that if you ever contacted me, I’d tell you everything.”
She looked at my stomach.Study Anatomy
“I should have contacted you myself,” she said. “I’ve thought about it every year. But he made me promise to let you come to me. He said you’d been forced into enough things in your life. He wanted you to choose.”
