For once, I believed her immediately.
She looked frightened by the question herself.
“There were two boxes from Mom and Dad’s basement in the unit,” she said. “Dad gave them to me when they renovated six years ago. He said they were my old things. I never opened them.”
I looked back at the folder.
Under the college letter was another page.
A handwritten note.
Not Denise’s handwriting.
Mom’s.
Denise leaned forward.
“I didn’t see that until yesterday.”
I unfolded it.
Joanna—
This came for you. We should talk before you answer. You have enough on your shoulders right now, and I don’t want you making a decision because you feel guilty about school.
Mom.
Nothing else.
No explanation of why the note had never reached me.
No proof that she had deliberately kept it.
Just evidence that she had held the letter in her hands.
