“I need to talk to you,” I said.
She glanced toward the yard… toward the girl… then back at me.
After a moment, she opened the door without a word.
Inside, my legs felt weak.
The girl looked up at me and smiled—pure, innocent—and something in my chest ached.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Mrs. Harper’s hands trembled.
“Her name is Emily,” she said softly.
“I didn’t ask her name. I asked who she is.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I’ve been caring for her since she was a baby. She’s not mine… I was just protecting her.”
My breath caught.
“Then whose child is she?”
Mrs. Harper looked up, her eyes filled with something heavy and old.
“She’s your husband’s niece.”
The world tilted.
Daniel had always told me his older sister died young, years before we met. No details. No stories. His family never spoke about her.
“That doesn’t explain this,” I whispered.
She nodded slowly.
