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Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Half Title Page
  3. Books by Katie Powner
  4. Title Page
  5. Copyright Page
  6. Dedication
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. FOUR
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. TWENTY-ONE
  28. TWENTY-TWO
  29. TWENTY-THREE
  30. TWENTY-FOUR
  31. TWENTY-FIVE
  32. TWENTY-SIX
  33. TWENTY-SEVEN
  34. TWENTY-EIGHT
  35. TWENTY-NINE
  36. THIRTY
  37. THIRTY-ONE
  38. THIRTY-TWO
  39. THIRTY-THREE
  40. THIRTY-FOUR
  41. THIRTY-FIVE
  42. THIRTY-SIX
  43. THIRTY-SEVEN
  44. THIRTY-EIGHT
  45. THIRTY-NINE
  46. FORTY
  47. FORTY-ONE
  48. FORTY-TWO
  49. FORTY-THREE
  50. FORTY-FOUR
  51. FORTY-FIVE
  52. FORTY-SIX
  53. FORTY-SEVEN
  54. FORTY-EIGHT
  55. FORTY-NINE
  56. FIFTY
  57. FIFTY-ONE
  58. FIFTY-TWO
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Author
  61. Back Ads
  62. Back Cover

My stomach twists. I wish he would just tell me she’s dead. “Yes.”

“I was hoping you would be willing to talk to us about why you went to Chicago that summer.”

My heart pounds loud enough that I wonder if everyone can hear it. None of this will bring Aunt Gladys back. There’s no point . . .

“I’m not sure why that’s important now.”

The stranger flinches, and Mitch clears his throat. “Well, Mom, I think it is important. Because this man here”—he points with his thumb—“this is Ken, remember? And Ken was born at Mercy Hospital in Chicago on August 17, 1976.”

I hear a newborn cry, and I gasp. It’s such a beautiful, horrible, vulnerable sound. I long to see his face. To touch his hand. But they are carrying him away.

“No,” I shout. I cry. My baby. My sweet, precious, perfect baby. “No!”

Bring him back. Bring him back.

Oh, God, what have I done?

FORTY-FOUR

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Fear and confusion twisted his mother’s face as she shouted, and Mitch wished he could take it back. The whole thing. But they were here, and Ken sat beside him, intense and intent, not going anywhere.

Rand reached toward June as if to comfort her or hold her down, but then pulled his hand away. Unsteady. He addressed Mitch while turning a suspicious eye on Ken. “What’s this about, son?”

Mitch let out a deep breath through his nose. Bea and Jeremy seemed to know more about it than he did, but they’d agreed on the drive over that he should take the lead in this conversation.

He grasped at straws. “Will you tell us about your visit to Chicago, Mom?”

She made an unintelligible sound and stared at the table as if seeing something else entirely. Mitch was glad he’d warned Ken about her condition before they drove over. Her appearance was improved from the last time he’d seen her—that haircut had done wonders—yet her behavior remained unpredictable.

His father’s voice grew impatient. “Mitch?”

Mitch drummed the table with his fingers. Boy, oh boy. There was nothing for it but to dive in.

“Ken has a birth certificate that says he was born in 1976 in Chicago to J. Reynolds.”

Rand’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at June. Looked at Ken.

“Did you ever wonder what she went there for, Dad?” Mitch tried to keep his voice calm and level. “Did you ever ask?”

“You know what she always says.” His voice sounded far away, an echo in the bottom of a well. “‘Today’s more important than yesterday.’ I never gave it much thought. June?”

Mitch held his breath as five pairs of eyes fixed on his mother.

Rand persisted, his voice harder now. “Juniper?”

She made a sound like a whimper.

Ken leaned forward and spoke for the first time. “Mom?”