a star.
“Rebecca wanted you to have this,” she explained.
I held it carefully.
“Why didn’t you give it to me before?”
“I was afraid you’d ask about her.”
I fastened the necklace around my neck.
“I wish you’d trusted me with the truth.”
“So do I,” she whispered.
Eventually, Emily went into labor.
Her daughter Lily arrived on a cold Thursday morning.
She had dark hair, tiny fingers, and beautiful gray eyes.
For one brief moment, those eyes reminded me of Daniel’s photograph.
Then Lily yawned and curled her
