My grandfather, who is 76 years old, sewed blankets and sold them at the flea market so I could walk again – Then a motorcyclist arrived and said to me, "I've been looking for you for 20 years."

"You did a double guard again."

" How are you. "

"You're rubbing your chest, grandpa. It's too much for you."

He lowered his hand.

"This is too much for you."

***

That evening, I took her order book, raised the prices, took photos of the quilts and suggested smaller models, cheaper to make.

"Are you taking over?"

"I'll help you."

"Just like Hannah."

Every little detail about my mother still seemed just as precious to me.

"I'll help you."

***

I knew my mother had died after giving birth to me. I knew she loved yellow dresses, old-fashioned music, and putting way too much cinnamon in her coffee.

I knew almost nothing about my father.

Grandfather always said that he had disappeared.

Now I knew that wasn't the whole story.

I knew that my mother had died after giving birth to me.

***

An hour later, Tessa walked me home. I dragged myself straight to my room and pointed to the wooden box on the top shelf.

"Pass it to me."

Inside were photos, cards, and a packet of envelopes tied together with string. Each envelope bore Cole's name. Some had been returned. Others had never been mailed.

The front door opened.

"Pass it to me."

***

Grandfather appeared in my doorway and stopped.

His gaze immediately fell upon the letters scattered on my bed.

"You weren't allowed to open that box, Maisie."

I held on tight to my wheels.

"You had put my whole life into that."

"I was protecting your mother..."

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