Arthur had stood listening from the doorway, astonished to hear me sing again.
Only then did I understand. One half of the manuscript described what Maisie never experienced. The other preserved the moments we actually shared with Aurora. He hadn’t overlooked our younger daughter. He had been remembering both.
***
The final pages contained a letter addressed to me.
“Monica,
I was afraid you’d read the beginning and think I wanted that life more than ours.
I didn’t.”
I lowered it, overwhelmed.
“Then why didn’t you tell me, Arthur?”
From beside
