Susan smiled.
“That sounds like improvement.”
I laughed quietly.
Then another question came to me.
“Was that why you agreed to come here?”
“What?”
“Because of my mother. Because you had the letters.”
“Partly.”
“What was the other reason?”
Her smile disappeared.
For a few seconds, Susan looked toward the window.
Then she whispered, “I was afraid.”
The answer hurt more than I expected.
“I didn’t want to be alone either.”
I reached over and held her hand.
“You’re not alone.”
Voices came from the kitchen.
Greg and Marcy had returned carrying food for the following day.
Susan heard them too.
A peaceful expression settled across her face.
“Your mother used to tell me that sometimes people need a second chance before they understand what they should have done with the first one.”
I swallowed hard.
“I wish I could thank her.”
Susan glanced toward the letter in my hand.
