understood that both of us had stayed quiet to shield the other.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Aurora squeezed my fingers.
“I wish we’d spoken about her more.”
I admitted that I still couldn’t understand why Arthur had spent so many years imagining Maisie’s adulthood.
“There’s something I haven’t figured out about your father’s book.”
“What?”
“Why he spent so many years writing about the life Maisie never had.”
Aurora considered it.
“Maybe he wanted to know her too. And maybe that’s how he tried to heal from her.”
Her explanation
