I didn’t name him. I didn’t fall in love with him, as Aunt Jewel predicted. I did hold him long enough to feel his tenderness. His innocence. But I felt no love. Once I saw his hair, it was the end for me. I know that is small and cruel of me. He is an innocent baby. But he deserves a mother and father who will see only his pure little soul with no ugly memories attached to him. That is what he now has: he is already with his new family in his new home. Aunt Jewel said his parents already adore him. I feel numb. Dull and empty. But I know I made the right decision.

I don’t know where I’ll go. I have some ideas, though I won’t spell them out here. I should burn this journal, yet I find I can’t. It has been my trusted friend. My link to my mother. I’ll tuck it deep in Nellie’s chest. It will be several years before she’ll be able to read what I’ve written here and I know that when she does, she will hold my secrets tight. There is a bond between that little girl and me. I am trusting my safety to you, dear Nellie!

I’ve thought of a new name I will use, and I plan to create a new future for myself. I hope Jesse is doing the same. If he is still out there, somewhere, somehow, someday, I will find him. I owe him my thanks. Perhaps I even owe him my life.

Chapter 59. Morgan

Chapter 59

MORGAN

August–3, 2018

What happened to Anna?

I read the journal cover to cover while sitting in the recliner in Jesse’s sunroom, and I closed the book after midnight with that question burning in my brain. Had she been able to safely escape from the Williams’s farm? And if she escaped, did the police ever catch up to her?

I felt emotionally drained after reading her story. Anna had felt real to me, increasingly so as I worked on the mural. Now, she felt like a friend. I needed to know what had become of her. I feared the ending couldn’t have been good. Had Jesse Williams known how Anna’s story ended? Had he wanted the mural front and center in the gallery as a tribute to his friend who had no longer been able to create art of her own?

I climbed into bed, the musty old journal on the nightstand next to me, but I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep. After lying there for more than an hour, I got up, pulled on my jeans and T-shirt, and quietly left the house, not wanting to awaken Lisa. I’d been secretive about the journal, not mentioning it to Lisa or even to Oliver. I’d needed to be the first to read it.