I love you, Amanda. Always. Never has a day passed that I haven’t thought of you, and remembered what we found here.

He turned in her dream to look out over the river where the banks were green and soft and the water quiet.

You named her for the river, for the memory of the days we had.

She’s so beautiful, Tommy. So bright, so strong. You’d be proud.

I am proud. And how I wish . . . But it couldn’t be. We knew it. You knew it. He sighed, turned back. You did well for her, Amanda. Never forget that. But you’re leaving her now. The pain of that, and what you’ve held inside all these years, makes it so hard. You have to tell her, give her her birthright. And let her know, somehow let her know that I loved her. And would have shown her if I could.

I can’t do it alone, she thought, struggling out of sleep as his image faded away. Oh, dear God, don’t make me do it alone.

“Mom.” Gently, though her hands shook, Shannon stroked her mother’s sweaty face. “Mom, wake up. It’s a dream. A bad dream.” She understood what it was to be tortured by dreams, and knew how to fear waking—as she woke every morning now afraid her mother would be gone. There was desperation in her voice. Not now, she prayed. Not yet. “You need to wake up.”

“Shannon. They’re gone. They’re both of them gone. Taken from me.”

“Ssh. Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. Open your eyes now, and look at me.”

Amanda’s lids fluttered open. Her eyes swam with grief. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I did only what I thought right for you.”

“I know. Of course you did.” She wondered frantically if the delirium meant the cancer was spreading to the brain. Wasn’t it enough that it had her mother’s bones? She cursed the greedy disease, and cursed God, but her voice was soothing when she spoke. “It’s all right now. I’m here. I’m with you.”

With an effort Amanda drew a long, steadying breath. Visions swam in her head—Colin, Tommy, her darling girl. How anguished Shannon’s eyes were—how shattered they had been when she’d first come back to Columbus.

“It’s all right now.” Amanda would have done anything to erase that dread in her daughter’s eyes. “Of course you’re here. I’m so glad you’re here.” And so sorry, darling, so sorry I have to leave you. “I’ve frightened you. I’m sorry I frightened you.”

It was true—the fear was a metallic taste in the back of her throat, but Shannon shook her head to deny it. She was almost used to fear now; it had ridden on her back since she’d picked up the phone in her office in New York and been told her mother was dying. “Are you in pain?”

“No, no, don’t worry.” Amanda sighed again. Though there was pain, hideous pain, she felt stronger. Needed to, with what she was about to face. In the few short weeks Shannon had been back with her, she’d kept the secret buried, as she had all of her daughter’s life. But she would have to open it now. There wasn’t much time. “Could I have some water, darling?”