This woman smelled of soap, cedar smoke, and the lavender lotion my mother used when I was a child.
A sound broke from my chest.
Then I held her.
Seventeen years collapsed.
I was sixteen again, waiting beside a window for headlights that never came.
“You’re alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re alive.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I pushed away.
Anger came as quickly as relief.
“You let us bury you.”
“I had no choice.”
“You had seventeen years.”
“I watched you from a distance.”
“That makes it worse.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I know.”
Ben stepped forward.
“Rosie found you.”
Evelyn’s gaze moved to him.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes. She survived surgery.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
“The babies?”
“Alive.”
She sagged against the wall, weeping.
Ben’s voice hardened.
“Why didn’t you go to her?”
“Because anyone close to me becomes a target.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Samuel Vale?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Samuel was dangerous. But he wasn’t the one I was hiding from.”
