I held up the photo. “Tell me I’m not losing my mind.”
“No, honey. You’re finally being told the truth.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
I grabbed the box.
“Your mama was scared.”
“Of Mark?”
Mrs. Bell nodded. “And of the story your family kept repeating. Everyone forgot why Victor took that bracelet.”
“For blankets,” I whispered.
“For survival,” she said. “Then Mark grew up and learned how useful shame could be.”
I thought of the boots. The firewood. The porch step.
He’d been there the whole time.
As close as they let him be.
“For survival.”
***
When I walked back into Mom’s house, Mark was already there, holding the blue box.
I stopped in the doorway. “Put that down.”
He gave me his softest smile. “Fiona, you’re upset. Let me handle this.”
“No,” I said. “You handled enough.”
Then Victor stepped in behind me.
